


Space is Silent

by Noralesong



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Communication, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Friendship/Love, Grogu interrupts a lot, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Jealous Din Djarin, Masturbation, Memory Loss, Miscommunication, Muteness, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, POV Din Djarin, POV Original Female Character, Partners to Lovers, Protective Din Djarin, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Teacher-Student Relationship, Touch-Starved Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 83,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noralesong/pseuds/Noralesong
Summary: Nix has no memory, only the mark of an assassin guild and the reflexes bespeaking her past life. She also has no voice.Din is saddled with the responsibility of not only a strange, alien child, but an even stranger young woman with no other place to go.-Slow building romance from teacher/student to partners. Mute OC.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 157





	1. The Girl's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This story follows the episodes pretty closely aside from the addition of my OC.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stranger comes to seek a bounty that many others have died trying to acquire.

"Careful there girl!"

She flinched away from the Ugnaught, despite the fact that he had been nothing but kind to her so far. He gave her a pitiful look, taking the wrench from the girl’s fingers to continue the repairs himself. Sighing, she tried to make herself busy or even somewhat useful, but there wasn't much to do out here. There wasn't even much _out_ here. Rather, she’d come upon Kuiil, staggering out of the craggy landscape with no shoes, no name, no memory. 

He'd fed and given her better clothes, even if they were baggy and ill fitting. So, she thought that maybe she’d try and help around the farm, though the giant beasts for riding terrified her. Blurggs were they? She thought that's what Kuiil called them. They smelled bad too.

"Do you remember anything else?" Kuiil asked her while working on the vaporator.

The girl shook her head. It was all just blank. An inky chasm where a memory should be and nothing was there. Glancing down at her palms, she noticed they were rough and cracked. Her feet hurt too from having walked over the stoney earth, foot to soil, soles bloodied and cut. Even now they still ached, slipping on the inside of boots too large.

Dirt shifted, the noise of heavy boots drawing their attention. Turning in the direction of the approacher, they observed a stranger by the glint of a silver helmet. A layer of dust clung to the battered armor, some reddish from the clay in the soil and because it had been overly burnished until this point, needing replacing. There was a hum, almost like... a familiarity about it. Had she met this person before? No, she didn’t think so, but the armor was the most comforting thing she’d seen since appearing. That's what she called it - her appearing - you know, just popping up into existence without even as much as a voice.

"I thought you had perished by this point," the Ugnaught announced, recognizing the man, when the girl did not. There was no surprise there. The Ugnaught could have been her dad and she didn't remember. She had realized she wasn't an Ugnaught though, so he probably wasn't her father.

The new soul was quiet, almost wary as he glanced from Kuiil and then to her. A sphere floated beside him, riddled with dents, and seemingly holding something precious. Treasure maybe? She thought that would make sense. He seemed... the hunter type.

"Who is that?" they asked finally, voice manipulated through the helmet's modulator. Regardless, it was flat and cold, making the girl shiver unpleasantly. She decided this person was scary, just like the blurggs. 

"A girl," Kuiil answered simply.

The stranger's head tilted slightly, as if to say silently, that he had observed that already.

"I found her. Walking out of the mountains; no memory, no shoes, and few words," Kuiil elaborated finally. "Part of me wonders if she was a slave-" he fell off, a deeper implication running in his unspoken words. She reached forward and patted his shoulder reassuringly. Glancing back at her, the girl could see he was thankful, as she had done a nice thing. 

She smiled slightly, but then looked back at the hunter and stopped. 

"If you live, then you succeeded in your task?" Kuiil inquired.

The man opened the cache, but there wasn't any shiny treasure. Instead, a small baby-like creature glanced around, enormous ears wobbling on its head, as it reached out - craving the touch or affection of another. It was cute. The girl wanted to hold it, to play with it, but she could feel the tart gaze of the stranger, almost as if he were reading her mind. 

"This is the asset," the warrior confirmed.

She continued to sneak glances, as if the hunter wouldn't notice her intrusive glances toward his prize. Was it worth a lot of money? 

"A lot of fussing over this small creature," Kuiil admitted, hobbling forward to get a better look at it. "I can see why they wanted it to be delivered alive, now... But what brings you here? I thought you might have left to return the bounty."

Bounty? Her shoulders sagged in slight disappointment at the fact that the poor little green thing would just be handed over for money. She eyed it again, snapping away when she realized the helmet had turned back toward her. "My ship was destroyed by Jawas, standing me here," the man finally answered after giving the girl another reproachful tilt of his helmet, as if _she_ could manage to steal the baby from him.

"Jawas do not destroy. They may have dismantled your ship, but it is still there," Kuiil pointed out.

"It makes no difference. I have no ship and they protect themselves in a crawling fortress. There is no way for me to recover the parts."

A frog hopped nearby, drawing both the girl’s attention and that of the baby's. He liked it. Bending down, she picked it up and edged closer, fingers pulsing as the frog ribbited between them. While they spoke - and while the hunter was distracted - she showed the frog to the baby. 

"You could trade with them," Kuiil suggested as she continued to go toward the baby.

They weren't looking.

"Are you out of your mind?" the warrior was even more vexed, a slight hiss escaping the modulator. Huh. Modulator. How did she know that word? Or what it did?

The baby grabbed the frog from her hand and forced it into his mouth. The girl ogled, horrified, but unable to do anything other than watch as he somehow forced the animal down into his gullet. Oh, she’d done it now. 

"What are you doing?" the warrior sidled closer to her, his armor glinting, catching her eyes painfully. Beskar. Most of it was beskar, except for the poorly riddled pieces that needed to be replaced. It was... a rare and exceptionally resilient iron, folded multiple times over, making it stronger and lighter than typical iron.

Rather than answering, she bowed apologetically.

"Does... she not talk?" the man realized, glancing toward Kuiil for guidance.

"Not a word since she arrived a week ago," Kuiil shrugged, nonplussed by this. He understood her, even if she did not speak. The girl had tried yelling when she first saw him, but only a strained croak came out, almost like the frog the baby had swallowed. Since then, she’d tried a few times to say something in the privacy of her sleeping roll - which, mind you, is not very private at all - but only weird cracks and hisses would come out. She’d stopped trying after that. "I think she may be mute or her vocal chords are severely damaged. She knows how to write."

The warrior did not speak again.

"Come, let us entreat the Jawas for your ship," Kuiil insisted, turning away before the man could decide what he would do. 

"But-" 

"I have spoken..." Kuiil interrupted, glancing in her direction. "The girl comes too."

She assumed it was exasperation, but who knows, the helmet hid all as he snapped to look at her. Rather than stick behind, she quickly followed after Kuiil, still feeling rather guilty that the child had eaten the frog she had shown to him. Hopefully, he wouldn't get sick later. 

They prepared the blurggs, mounting up on them to go find the Jawas. Personally, she would have liked walking, but again her feet hurt. The blurggs were tall, but she found that in spite of how soft and weak she was, that riding felt familiar - as if she'd done such a thing on an animal's back before. Nudging it forward, she kept my flank close to Kuiil, rather than testing the stranger's patience again. What if that frog killed the baby? Would he kill her afterward? She swallowed those thoughts, taking a deep breath and trying not to be frightened by what lay ahead. 

How could she not? She barely knew anything other than the sometimes familiar feeling of doing something. Otherwise, she was just as gawky and helpless as the tiny green baby. Over the orange crags and hills, traveling between mountains - only Kuiil and she sat on blurggs. Behind Kuiil's mount was a hoversled, carrying their charges. 

Morning crested over a hill, casting a peach glow over the mountains before refracting down on us. Dust kicked up along the path of the Jawas’ massive vehicle. The girl could only crane her neck up, staring open mouthed at the sight. Coming down from the ramp, were tiny people in robes, their faces shrouded in shadows aside from the red eyes staring back. Jawas.

They greeted Kuiil as an old friend, chiming happily in their language, which she did not understand. Coming down from the blurgg, dropping in a puff of sand and dust, a few Jawas approached her, tugging on the bottom of her robes. They were friendly, inquisitive, glancing back at Kuiil for guidance in her regard. But it wasn't her that they were ruffled by, instead they began shouting - yelling at the warrior who was with them. 

"Drop your weapons," Kuiil warned, the situation becoming tense, especially with how the man walked - stern and intimidating toward them. 

"No, I will not," the man retorted hotly. "My weapons are a part of me."

"If you do not then you will most certainly not be getting your parts back," Kuiil snapped tartly.

There was a terse bit of silence, the Jawas beside her glaring in the man's direction. Finally, the silver armor flickered as he shifted, casting reflective orbs on the dirt. Slowly, he removed his blaster and rifle, though there were plenty of other items on his assembly that were not for looks. Cartridges, detonators, even his vambrace seemed to have contraptions on it. 

How did she know of these things? Maybe she had been a warrior too?

The party followed the Jawas onto the ship where negotiations could be held. One of the original Jawas that had pulled on her trousers reappeared, pointing at some of the junk on the wall, talking to her as if she could comprehend him. The girl didn't mind, nodding slowly, pretending to understand. At the very least, the Jawa was happy to share his wares with her as if she were some long lost childhood friend. Behind her, past the din of the Jawa's gibberish, she could hear the ongoing deliberations

They were willing to give the starship back for the armor he wore, as Kuiil translated aptly. The man then made a crude jape in the little bit of their language he knew, eliciting a colorful reaction from the rest of the Jawas listening. 

A small tug brought her eyes down to the child, who had managed to waddle his way around. The Jawas were interested in him, though she knew the man would be mad if they also tampered with him. He let out a low woo, before continuing to pad around curiously. 

Heat blossomed against the back of her neck, causing her to fall forward on the ground with the Jawa beside her. Turning, the girl could see that the man - as expected - had not turned in all of his weapons before getting on the ship. Instead, a flamethrower darted dangerously close to where they were perched. Rubbing the tender spot, though it wasn't burned, she grumbled beneath my breath... though it was more like silent flapping of her gums.

Plucked up like a prize, the child was scooped up from the ground by another Jawa, gesturing that this could be their prize. Rather than let them parade around with it, the girl snagged the child out of his arms, cradling it close to her chest before giving the friendly Jawa who had liked her, a tart look.

"Put it down," the man told her.

Frowning, she did as bid, though she didn't comprehend his bitterness with her. _She’d_ tried to be gentle with it and not let the Jawas roughly handle it. Setting the child back on the ground, she watched bemused as the baby gurgled, gesturing to be lifted again. She cocked a look at the man, as if to say - well? Rather than stick around, she went back outside, drawing in the dry, arid desert air. 

Curiosity getting the better of her, she glanced into the sled to see where the man had left his weapons. Pulse rifle. The word popped into her head, clear and unmistakable. Before she could control her hands, she turned it over, remembering... Remembering! The plant of the rifle, stern into the shoulder, lean in when shooting standing. Finger flat against the side until ready to pull the trigger. She put it back down, looking at the blaster now. It was an IB-94 blaster pistol, a nice reliable handgun. 

Cocking it, she turned it over, a hum in the back of my throat at the bit of confusion. Why did she know these things? Why was the touch of a weapon so familiar?

"What are you doing?"

She jumped, the weapon leaping between her hands as she made a futile attempt to catch it. Unable to grab it, the pistol fell back into the sled. There was the briefest moment that they just stared at each other and she thought - no, she knew - he was glaring at her. The beskar helm glinted in the light before he pushed by her and seized his weapons, not caring that she stumbled and nearly fell at his gruffness, catching the edge of the sled to keep herself from falling. 

"Don't touch. They're dangerous."

Now he was speaking to her as if she were a child, as if she hadn't known it was a blaster. The girl crossed her arms and gestured nonchalantly with her hand, wishing she could scream - _I know!_ No, he didn't understand her, why would he? Had he not surprised her, she would have just put it back down and he would be none the wiser. 

A gesture came to her hands, a quick snap, before she knew what she was doing. 

_‘Sorry.’_

He probably didn't understand, but she glanced at my own hands in surprise. She knew how to speak, but in another manner. Maybe she had always been mute, though she could hear perfectly fine. Whatever was wrong with her voice, it wasn't something that happened in tandem with her memory loss. That realization was slightly disappointing, there had been a slight hope that maybe her voice would come back. 

The man was staring at her. "Don't do it again." He slung the rifle over his shoulder and holstered his pistol, turning away and beginning off in the opposite direction. 

Kuiil returned, sighing slightly as the stranger walked away, before looking back to her. "I don't know if he'll return this time. Now if they want the "Egg"."

She moved my hands, wondering if maybe Kuiil could comprehend her. She had noticed that he was smart, he knew how to fix droids and other mechanical items. 

_‘What's egg?’_

Kuiil only stared, much to her chagrin. "You can speak?"

Only a nod this time. 

"I do not know that language," he admitted with a bit of apologeticness in his voice. "Did he-" glancing after the man in armor, she nodded again slowly. At least, she thought he understood her, but who knew, he could have just been chastising her again. Didn't matter, Kuiil said he probably wouldn't return and he was smart, so... the girl took him at his word. 

They waited with the Jawas, who continued to poke around, her friendly Jawa muttering to her - displaying a few items to her, but she didn't have anything to trade.

 _‘No, I have nothing,’_ she signed to them, albeit hopelessly.

 _‘That. That.’_ The friendly Jawa signaled back to her, pointing at her necklace, the only item she had that might reveal who she was. Just a crystal on a ring of leather. Didn't know much other than that.

Palming the crystal, she wondered what value it had that this Jawa had noticed immediately. She wasn't much help around the house, but weapons were familiar. There seemed to be trouble across this planet, enough that having extra fire power would be useful. Maybe she could protect Kuiil in exchange for a place to live. That sounded fair. 

_‘Weapon?’_

_‘Look.’_

The words were short, to the point, and she knew then that the Jawa only vaguely knew the language. Jumping up and down, he led her back into their ship to glance around, this time with a bit more attention to detail. There were many items, some arranged neatly, others in heaps. The best weapons were displayed up on a rack against the wall. Most were old, having been stored there collecting dust for a while. But there was a strange one, a black metal arc. 

The Jawa gestured, noticing that she was eying it. Picking the item up, it pressed a button to activate it. A red string appeared and the Jawa pulled it back, awkwardly due to the difference in size, and an energy bolt appeared. It was a bow.

 _‘Want?’_ The Jawa was asking her.

The girl took the necklace off and offered it to him, exchanging it for the bow. Pulling the string taut, the bolt appeared for her as well, humming between her fingers. Lifting to aim, a few Jawas screeched, and she dropped it down. Deactivating the bow, she thanked the Jawa for the trade - though she felt as if the bow was certainly more worthy than the necklace. Who knew? They probably had a better idea of the value than she ever would. Necklace could have been priceless and she was none the wiser.

Returning back outside with Kuiil, he had bunkered down to wait for the stranger. She glanced back to where they had disappeared, wondering if Kuiil's worry would become real. That would suck if they did, the child was cute and... the man seemed like _maybe_ he could understand her. It'd be nice to try and talk to someone again. The girl had been stuck with Kuiil and his inability to talk to her other than by paper. 

They waited. Waited until it was growing dark and the Jawas were getting annoyed with waiting around for so long. While they had been happy to make some sort of trade, it seemed they weren't going to wait any longer for the warrior. Rather, they drew their sandcrawler back up and the machine groaned. 

Cresting over the hill, the stranger returned, his armor absolutely _filthy_. Whatever he'd had to fight for it, certainly hadn't given it without a moderate amount of effort. Planting it on the ground, he offered it to the Jawas, lumbering forward stiffly - clearly ailing from the battle he had endured. 

"I'm... surprised you two waited," the man admitted as he sauntered up, the child in his floating carriage, sound asleep. 

"It took you longer than I thought," Kuiil retorted disdainfully, going against what he'd told her earlier. 

The Jawas helped deliver the items for the trade, stacking it up on the sled, her own blurgg tied up to help pull it. Our journey back was by foot, walking alongside the heaping of parts. The stranger wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, not until his ship was repaired. 

_‘Did the baby get hurt?_ ’ She gestured toward him hopefully. The original fear she had of him was chased away slightly by the prospect that someone might hear her. Desperately, she just wanted someone to _hear_ her. 

There was silence, her stomach sinking as she thought back to the original exchange. Maybe it had just been coincidence. "I... don't think so. Not physically."

She smiled, wider than she meant to, but excitement coursed through her. ‘ _Why?’_ she asked.

The stranger recounted what had happened, talking for the longest bit that she’d heard since meeting him. Even though he seemed to be stoic and mysterious, he was a good storyteller. His voice was deep and pleasant on the ears, despite coming through the metallic tang of his helmet's modulator. The beast had been large, too much to handle for him, but just when he thought it was going to run him through, the child used some sort of magic to stop it from ramming him. 

"I... do not quite understand what happened," Kuiil admitted, drawing the man's attention from her before she had the chance to ask a question.

"I do not either," he admitted, the bones of the ship remaining, looming in front of us.

* * *

**A.N.** Here is an image that inspired the appearance for the OC - [Click Me!](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bd/d1/ad/bdd1ad6cd2f649a70325c6002767f0ad.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as Din can speak Tusken sign language, I was inspired to create a character who cannot readily communicate with others. Please let me know what you think!


	2. Din's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din is stuck with a new problem. He brings her to the Tribe in an attempt to figure out what to do with her.

The ship was going to take days to repair without a proper maintenance facility. Between all that had happened on this awful planet, it wasn't going much better now that his delivery of the bounty had been delayed. Yet, the kindness of the strange Ugnaught farmer caught him off guard. What purpose did he have in helping Mando? He hadn't paid him for any of the help he offered. 

And then his newest companion, a young woman who couldn't talk. She milled around in robes not designed for a human to wear, giving flippant looks between Kuiil and Mando. Originally, she had been almost afraid to even glance at him, but now... He expected because he could understand her, that she was eager to talk to someone. He didn't have the time nor the patience at the moment. The ship needed to get done.

Kuiil offered to help, turning what he thought to be days of work, into much shorter work. The girl helped as much as she could, running parts and tools back and forth, almost as if _looking_ for an excuse to say something to him. It was rather amusing, the perked up look she'd get before fumbling with her hands to just say simple things, and then running off again, glancing back a couple of times as if he may not be watching her still. 

The girl had auburn hair tied in a plait. He could only guess she was in her 20s. She had doe brown eyes framed by dark lashes, a hint of copper in them like her hair. Dark winged brows on an olive complexion, her nose was small, and her face delicate and oval shaped. But there was a gaunt sharpness to her, which appeared to be from being underfed and small, almost child sized because of it. Mando didn't think she was a runaway slave like Kuiil assumed.

When he’d come up behind her looking at his own weapons, he’d seen the keen familiarity in handling them. She had even primed the blaster correctly, moving with muscle memory and dexterity that was likely ingrained so deeply in her head that she didn't need to remember how to do it. Whatever had happened for her to get her memory wiped clean, he’d probably never know. Mando just hoped that she'd find someone other than Kuiil to take care of her.

Taking the better part of nearly two days, the _Razor Crest_ was back in one piece. The Ugnaught knew what he was doing, speeding up the lengthy process of repairs. Turning toward him, the girl coming up behind, ringing her hands anxiously, Mando spoke, "I cannot thank you enough for your assistance. When I claim the bounty, consider a portion of it yours, as I could not have done it without your help."

Kuiil's thick white eyebrows pinched together and he shook his head vehemently. "No, I cannot accept. You were my guest and therefore, in your service."

"I could use a crewmember with your ability and the job would pay well," he countered, wondering if inviting him also meant the girl.

"I would be honored, however, I have spent a lifetime working to be free of servitude... Although," he knew what was coming when he glanced back toward the girl. He was sharp and perceptive and had undoubtedly realized that he could understand her. "Take the girl."

"No," Mando retorted sternly. That's all he needed - another charge aside from this child. It wouldn't be a partnership, the girl tripped over her own two feet just trying to hand over parts. Additionally, having a woman on the _Razor Crest_ with him wasn't a good idea. Pleasure was separate from work and a helpless, doe eyed girl who couldn't speak was exactly what he needed to avoid. Better to just leave her here.

"As payment for me, find her a better place than here. I cannot understand her and I can tell that she grows lonely-" the Ugnaught glanced back at her, the girl's face paling at his suggestion. 

Clearly, she didn't seem keen on this arrangement either. "She has no memory. What will I do with her?" he pointed out.

"I think... I think she knows how to shoot. She did trade the Jawas for an Energy Bow," Kuiil hypothesized.

Mando glanced at her, the thin shoulders, the malnutrition clear on her small face as she balked under his stare. A little mouse. "Can you?" he asked her.

 _‘Maybe,_ ’ she signed, turning around to trot back over to the sled and retrieve the bow she had traded for. _‘I do not remember, but I know.’_

Turning the bow on, she drew the energy string, her elbow pressed close and her form stellar. There was a slight quake in her arms, the muscles not strong enough to maintain the tension. Bolt between her fingers, she aimed up toward one of the rises and released the bolt. There was nothing in particular she was aiming at, but he knew that Kuiil was correct. There was training in her, be that military or mercenary, he couldn't say. Nor could she, apparently. An extra set of eyes to watch his back until he found her a proper home. 

Until he found her- Damn, he was already considering it, ensnared by those round imploring eyes. Maybe, it wouldn't be too bad. She was young, but not young enough to be a foundling. A home. Then he’d be done with her and back on bounties as he had been before. 

"I'll... bring her," Mando conceded. It was the least he owed Kuiil after he had helped acquire the parts for his ship and then put it all back together again. He may not have wanted payment, but taking the girl off of his hands seemed reasonable, even if it meant the _Razor Crest_ was going to be a bit uncomfortable for a while. Perhaps Karga would have a better idea of where to put her or even the Tribe could point me in the right direction for people who could also speak sign language _aside_ from Tusken Raiders.

 _‘I can help watch him,_ ’ she told him, pointing at the child. 

"It's only to turn him in," he informed her, drawing a deep breath. 

Taking the new charges on the _Razor Crest,_ relenting with the mute girl and allowing her to play with the child. It was a welcome distraction and he didn't have to be around her. Instead, she sat on the storage shed floor and made silly faces at him. The kid's eyes widened and he sneezed, falling over if not for a quick, but gentle hand. Her shoulders moved, a breathy laugh - though not audible - curving up her lips. She wasn't deaf, but he was admittedly puzzled as to why she couldn’t talk.

Turning away from the distractions, Mando moved into the cockpit, engaging the ship and bringing it away from the surface of Arvala-7. Once breaking the atmosphere and orbit, Nevarro's coordinates were inputted into the hyperdrive. Light streamed by, taking us away from sub-light. Leaning back in the chair, he sighed, still sore from the encounter with the mudhorn. Curious. The magic which had prevented it from colliding with him, from **_killing_ **him. Sliding down into the captain's chair, he closed his eyes.

When he woke up, the clock read another 48 hours until they reached Nevarro. Sighing, he got up, to go check on the two down below. Clopping down the rungs of the ladder, the girl was asleep on the floor with the kid cuddled up next to her. Both looked so small and frail. She could have stayed in the bunk, he’d resigned to the chair, but he supposed she didn't know that. He hadn't bothered to tell her.

Reaching into the bunk, he grabbed the blanket and brought it over. The shed floor was metal and cold. Bending over to throw it on the two of them, he paused, noticing a mark on the girl's neck that he hadn't before. Behind her auburn plait was a tattoo - no, some sort of heraldry: the mark of the Assassin's Guild. A name many knew, but rarely ever encountered. This mark... meant that the girl had worked amongst them. An assassin who couldn't speak meant that they couldn't spill the secrets of the guild.

Maybe... if she truly did not remember anything, it was possible the Guild had done this. Seemed odd, such a guild had a reputation for not leaving loose ends. Why not just kill her? Other bounty hunters would recognize the sigil. 

_Great._ He wouldn't be able to just leave her on some planet to mind her own business. If anyone who knew what that crest meant saw it, they'd immediately be suspicious. _He_ should have been more suspicious. But an assassin wouldn't have gone this route, looking so defeated and helpless. Her mannerisms didn't speak that of a trained killer. Her mannerisms bespoke that of someone who was confused and afraid. Not to mention an assassin wouldn't have had issues touting a bow, which had been a struggle for the girl's weak arms. 

Stupid. He shouldn't have agreed to this. 

_They're identifiers. Maybe someone in the Tribe will know how to read the tattoo. Greef wouldn't agree to do it, might get him in trouble with the Assassin's Guild,_ he thought, leaving the two to sleep. It was unfortunate. The girl seemed to like the kid or... at least keeping him out of his hair for now. A job was a job. Taking the bounty in and finding where the girl might go. Perhaps there was a bounty on her too.

He was in the cockpit when there was some noise down below again, the girl climbing up the ladder with the kid tucked under her arm. Her eyes brightened for a moment before she gestured at the chair, as if implying that she wanted to sit there.

"Go ahead," he told her, glancing back toward the windows that were streaming with starlight. 

Waving. She was waving, trying to get his attention. He didn't necessarily have to talk to her if he didn't look. However, the poor girl was desperate, few people willing to talk to her since she'd woken up with no memory. Turning just enough to glance over at her, he saw she had the kid propped in her lap and was signing quickly. 

_‘He is a bounty?’_

"Yes."

_‘What are you?’_

"That would make me a bounty hunter."

She shook her head. _‘Beskar,’_ she spelled it for me and correctly.

Interesting. Seemed she remembered somethings. "Mandalorian. Does that sound familiar?"

A disappointed look flickered over her face, eyes widening before she shook her head. _‘No, I only remember what the iron is called,’_ she admitted.

"You don't remember anything?"

She shook her head again.

If she had been an assassin, it had been a while since she'd worked as one. Hands on her lap, her baggy sleeves rode up enough to show scars - manacle scars. Had this been why Kuiil had suspected she was a runaway slave? He might be more inclined to agree if he hadn't seen the mark on her neck. This was beginning to seem more and more like an assassin that had been captured and had their memory wiped. _Why_? He still didn't know why they wouldn't just kill her. 

_‘Staring?’_

He was. Transfixed in his thoughts as he considered who might be sitting in front of him. 

_‘What are we going to do?’_

We? A small breath hissed through the modulator. "Not we," he reminded her sternly. 

_‘Fine. Then you. What are you going to do?’_ There was a bit of attitude in her gestures this time, leveling a hot look on me. For a brief moment, he saw an adult and not a child. _‘Maybe I can help fight? Or do something? I do not want to be a burden.’_

The girl had a strong sense of duty, that was good. Was she looking for orders? Wishing for some sort of direction? If she grew up regimented, it was possible that her subconscious would want to fall back into such again. 

"Just watch the kid for now," he told her. 

_‘Do you... have a name?’_

"Mando is fine."

She screwed up her face. _‘As in Mandalorian? That is not a name.’_

"Do you have a name?" he retorted sharply, watching as her face fell. No, of course she didn't. Kuiil had called her Girl. 

_‘I will watch him,’_ she said finally, leaving the seat to go back down the ladder and out of the cockpit.

Turning his head back to the window, a sigh pushed itself out of him. That had been cruel. It didn't matter, he need only remind himself that he shouldn't care about what one mute girl thought. Leaning back in the seat once again, he tried to think of something else, but it went back to the glaring disturbance in his ship. A woman and a child. It had been a while, a long while since he’d been with a woman. Painfully long, but all part of the job. No family, no attachments - just the job.

A hand pat his shoulder. "Dank farrik!" spinning round, the girl stood there again, nonplussed by his reaction. She was giving him a rather tart look, almost as if she rued having to talk to him again.

_‘Food? The child is hungry.’_

"Don't sneak around in here," he warned her. 

_‘Pay more attention,’_ she countered.

Standing up, Mando pushed the girl aside with a brush, heading down below to show her where the food was. There wasn't anything perishable - just rations that were easy to pack and grab. Some could be heated up, but the vast majority were just bars. There was little to no enjoyment in eating, it was just a way to stay fueled. Padding up behind him, the girl glanced around his shoulder and pinched up her face. 

"That's all we have. I wasn't expecting to have guests."

Leaving them alone again, he turned into the bunk which she seemed adamant on refusing. 

When he returned, she was sleeping on the floor again, the child snuggled against her a second time. Using some of the ropes and netting, the girl had made a makeshift bed, slightly more comfortable than the cold floor. What an annoying thing. To actually care that the girl might be cold or uncomfortable. She shivered, the cabin had gotten rather cold during this part of our travel. 

Bending down next to her, "Go sleep in the bunk."

The girl snapped awake, her hand flying out in fear and colliding with his helmet. He was knocked back, onto the floor, by an astonishing amount of strength he didn't think she had. It hadn't hurt, but when he looked back at her, he knew it had _hurt_ her. She turned over, clutching her knuckles where it had collided with the beskar. The skin was torn from impact and bleeding slightly.

Her eyes glared up at him ruefully, as if it were _his_ fault.

"Show it here," he sighed, offering her a hand.

The girl gave him a defiant look, making a rude gesture as she lifted her knuckles to her mouth and sucked on them. Her hands were her only method of talking and now one was going to be swollen. Not his fault, though there was a bit of guilt in the fact that he'd surprised her. There was still instinct in her, the fight or flight. 

Fine.

Getting up, he left her behind to tend to her own injury. This was just getting better wasn't it? He had a strange 50 year old baby he had to turn in for a bounty and a mute woman who seemed to have increasing problem with him. Maybe she was some kind of ex-assassin. Who knew? Obviously, she didn't.

Eventually, they trudged along to Nevarro, finally satisfied with this terrible arrangement. At least, he'd be able to turn in the bounty and another Mandalorian would have a better idea to do with her. Ramp leading out of the ship, the girl shouldered her bow, and glanced around anxiously at the dusty hot landscape of the planet. Greef had informed him that the Client wanted the child immediately, but would not divulge any of the information in regards to what he wanted it for. 

_‘Are we trading him in?’_ she asked, her hand was still swollen from where she had struck him, but she moved without noticing it.

"I will be, but you will not," he told her, bringing her through the marketplace and toward the stairwell that hid the lair for the Tribe. 

_‘I cannot say goodbye?’_

"You can say goodbye, though it'll only make it harder."

The girl frowned.

Other Mandalorians were milling around, glancing in our direction, nodding slightly toward him to acknowledge his arrival. There were longer looks, toward the girl, as she was the only one there that did not wear a helmet. Coming round to the forge, a melodic rhythm rang against the beskar that the armorer worked. She paused, glancing toward them.

"What has happened to your armor?" the armorer looked at the dented heartplate, the absolute havoc that the mudhorn had wrought on it. 

"It was damaged during a mission on Arvala-7 and has lost its integrity," he answered, keenly aware that he'd need to use the beskar from the bounty to replace it. 

"What's this?" the armorer asked, glancing toward the girl.

"A lost soul," he told her. "She has no memory or voice, but bears the mark of a dangerous guild."

"Girl, come forward," the armorer entreated.

The girl glanced at him, frightened for a moment, as if he'd be able to offer any sympathy or encouragement. Simply, he gestured her forward. Did she think they were going to kill her? 

The armorer brushed the girl's braid away to inspect the mark. "An identifier," she confirmed. "How did you come by her?"

"As a favor for an ally."

"A favor how?"

"To find where she belongs... though I had not noticed the mark prior to agreeing."

"The Guild keeps assassins like this," the armorer acknowledged slowly. "Ch'ot G'evoti or Mute Eyes. Typically, they are snipers, reared from when they are babes - similar to foundlings. The Ch'ot G'evoti make for wonderful killers, never able to betray their intention because they cannot speak. Interesting that this one recalls nothing. Still so young..." the armorer turned back to him. "Leave her here for now. I wish to ask her questions."

Mando nodded slowly, the girl cocking her head through the entire ordeal, trying to make sense of what they were describing. Either way, he was going to return once he secured the rest of his bounty. Spinning on his heel, he didn't wait to see what the girl was forming with her hands, trying to poise a question. The Tribe would know more about this girl.


	3. The Girl's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl finds a new home and faces her first task - protect the child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV's will be alternating with a few other characters sprinkled in -- I'm thinking about including Cara down the line. 
> 
> Some chapters may be long and others short depending on how I think the POV should read for the plot.

He just left her. He kriffing left her amongst an entire freakish cult of bucketheads. Nor did he even give her a chance to say goodbye to the baby. Wringing her hands in front of her, she considered what the lady Mando had just said. She had been an assassin. That would explain how she knew weapons, since apparently she'd been in the cradle with one. Swallowing hard, she glanced back toward her, greeted by the faceless beskar helm. 

"Sit, girl."

The girl did as the armorer picked up a hammer and began working again. 

"Do you recall anything?"

She shook her head.

"And you were also found on Aravala-7?"

She nodded slowly.

"How old are you?"

She shrugged.

"You are a blank slate," the armorer decided. "Ready to be forged for proper use."

She supposed she was. She knew weapons, she just had to learn how to use them again. _ ‘I am eager to be useful,’ _ she signed to her, hopeful that she might understand.

The armorer paused, turning to answer her back in signs,  _ ‘Good.’ _

Heat blossomed in her chest, a smile quivering to her lips as she returned to her work. "You are older for a foundling," she said slowly. "But, that is what you are. Innocent of your past, innocent to the galaxy, without a place or home. Tell me, do you wish to belong?"

She nodded. Belong? She just wanted a home. Maybe these people would take her in and get her back on her feet. Even if she never became acquainted with her prior life, she just wanted to be able to live. 

"Muscles remember, even if the memory does not. Come with me," the armorer finished her work and glanced back at her, waiting for her to stand and follow. They left the forge, passing by other Mandalorians who were milling around. In a secular room, where a few arraignments of beskar hung, the armorer picked up a helmet similar to her own. The gold hue of it glinted dimly in the light, but instead of horns like the armorer, the mask had fronds of detailed feathers winging against the ears, preening off on the edges. 

"The Mandalorian this was forged for never had the chance to wear it," the armorer told me. "However, I see the phoenix in you." Turning to the girl, she offered it, an induction into the new life she was about to live. But rather than handing it to her, she gripped it tightly, staring down at her through her helmet. "There are things you must agree to, ways of life you must adhere to. Your mentor will tell you more, but know that there are ways of the Mandalore... You must vow to protect other Mandalorians. After donning this helmet, no other living creature is permitted to see your face. If it is removed, then you are no longer worthy of wearing it."

_ ‘I will have to fight and earn the other pieces, I assume? _ ’ she asked her, releasing the helmet to inquire. 

"Yes, This is the Way."

She wrestled with the idea for a moment. Put a helmet on and just start a new life. Hell, what was she kidding? She had no current life  _ to _ live. Putting on a helmet and keeping it on wasn't a big deal. Although... 

_ ‘How would I eat? Or bath? Or-’ _

"In private, foundling, in private," the armorer broke in calmly and she could almost hear the smile in her voice. 

_ ‘And then... I'll be Mandalorian?’ _

"There will still be much for you to learn, but upon taking these vows, yes -- you will become one of us," the armorer inclined.

Gripping the helmet again, she nodded. This was the best path. Find a way to survive. It was probably a better idea that she wore a helmet in case people knew her from her 'assassin life'. Tilting the helmet in her hand, she noticed there was a reddish glare to the gold. This would be it, she would become Mandalorian.

Lifting the helmet, she slid it over her head, slightly surprised that it wasn't nearly as stuffy in here as she thought it would be. Lights flickered on and there were multiple panels and options. She cocked her head, trying to make sense of it all, distracted by the various settings and vision modes. Kriff! How did anyone see through all of this and-

"The side," the armorer sensed my confusion, tapping against the left side of her helm.

The girl moved her hand up, panning through the options before settling it on normal. Welp, wouldn't need the modulator aside from breathing. 

_ ‘Thank you.’ _

_ ‘This is the Way.’ _

She was given better fitting clothing than the robes Kuiil had bestowed her. Dark leather trousers tucked into a pair of blood red boots, a padded tasset -- well, they called it that, but it looked kind of like an open skirt that went around the top of her legs -- and a leather heartplate. There was no beskar laying around, just the helmet for a Mandalorian who never got the chance to use it. The base layer for the beskar armor made up my top, a dark maroon shirt that was warm, trimmed with fur around the neck like the armorer's. Her braid swung against her back still, the high collar of the shirt tucking into her helmet. A pair of leather gloves, a bandolier, and a holster for her bow. Now, she supposed she was complete... except for the general lack of beskar, but she hadn't done anything to earn it

Sitting down by the forge, a few other Mandalorians milled in to listen to the noise that it made. She must have dozed slightly, the beautiful melody of the steel in her ears, before she was woken by a slight commotion. Blinking, her eyes found Mando and without the child. Sighing, she propped her chin on her palm, resting her elbow on her knee as she contemplated what might have happened to the little green alien. 

"Our strength was once in numbers. But now we sneak above one at a time. Our world was shattered by the Empire and this coward shares their tables," the big Mandalorian was gesturing toward Mando.

She sat up, wondering if he recognized her. Probably not, her face was covered. She’d taken the oath from the armorer, she couldn't go removing it now or else she wouldn't be one of them anymore. She’d only  _ just  _ gotten a family, she wasn't gonna forsake it just to say hi to Mando when he was getting reamed out by this bigger guy.

Mando lunged forward, quickly, but not before the other drew a knife. What was going on? She stood, trying to get a better look, but other Mandalorians were japing, yelling about the Empire. Forcing her way under them, she saw that the big one was trying to rip Mando's helmet off. Sticking out a leg, she tripped him. Crashing like a raccoon into trash bins, he collided with the ground, turning on her to spring like a rabid massiff. Her fingers flexed naturally, unsheathing the bow in a fluid motion before drawing the string taut. It hurt, her knuckles still raw, but she maintained it.

"The beskar has been rightfully returned," the armorer broke in. "The Empire has fallen... Girl, put the bow down-" she lowered it at her command, taking a step back as the armorer looked between the men. "When one chooses to walk the way of the Mandalorian, they are both hunter and prey. How can one be a coward if one chooses this way of life?" turning to Mando, she asked, "Have you ever removed your helmet? Or has it been removed by another?"

"No," Mando answered, his chest heaving with effort from the small scuffle. 

"This is the Way," the chant rang out around them, and she felt a bit displaced, quickly trying to fumble the bow and my hands to mimic them. It was rather sloppy and she was pretty sure she said something more like  _ 'I have to pee'. _

Others were peeling away from where the fight had just happened, leaving her hovering nearby. Mando glanced in her direction, a hissing breath escaping his modulator. She turned her head to the side, giving a rather nonplussed shrug of her shoulders before settling the bow back into its holster on her back. He looked about to ask her a question when the armorer devoted her attention to him again. 

"You have earned the mudhorn as your signet," she declared. "I shall craft the new armor."

"No, it was not a noble kill. I was helped by an enemy."

_ Ah, the child. _ She felt her lips purse, a soft pang in her heart at the thought of the sweet thing being handed over to the Empire. 

"Why would an enemy help you in battle?" the armorer asked curiously.

"It did not know it was my enemy."

Of course not, it had been a helpless child. 

"Since you forgo the signet, I shall use the beskar to also forge whistling birds."

"You should save some for the foundlings," Mando told her, which surprised the girl. He had been rather cold up until this point, aggravatingly so. She hadn't thought there was a soft bone under his stupid, shiny beskar. 

"Your foundling then," the armorer agreed.

" _ My _ ?" he paused and then glanced at her and then back to the armorer. "She is too old."

"She is as malleable as this beskar. No memory, no voice, no home. While she may be older, she knows how to fight -- as you saw before. Refine her and she shall make a great sister," the armorer declared smoothly, her tone final on the subject matter.

She couldn't help but loll her neck, realizing now that she was saying she’d be stuck with Mando. Wasn't there like... any other Mandalorians who were nicer? Maybe her? Or one of the other, more friendly looking ones? But as she cast her eyes out amongst the crowd, it was difficult to tell if any were nice. Rocking back on her heels, the girl hooked her thumbs into her belt loop, wondering what was about to happen. Mando didn't seem pleased, nor was she particularly excited about having to be crammed back on the old gunship with him. Maybe if she could have groaned, she would have, instead a hot breath of air pinged her back in the face in the mask. 

He could just say no. Make it easier from here, defer her training to another person. But it wouldn't be that simple. The armorer was highly respected, almost as if she were some sort of unofficial leader and sage for the Tribe. The girl knew it just by the way the others looked at her, tilting their helmets for guidance. Honestly, the girl felt the same way, drawn in by the mellow alto of her voice, the melodic ringing of beskar as she worked, and the manner in which each word passing through the vocoder seemed mightily important. 

"Fine," Mando hissed, turning around to brush by her as he sat down to wait for the armorer to work on the beskar.

The girl edged toward him, the only familiar helmet amongst the crowd, and apparently her teacher now. Sitting down on the bench beside him, she kept her palms on her knees, thinking quietly of what she might say. Thank you? Or perhaps make a joke to break the terse silence.

_ 'Guess you aren't getting rid of me so soon,'  _ she signed, shaking her shoulders slightly in an attempt to make it look like she was laughing. A laugh didn't quite make a noise on her lips, just the slight huffing of her breath as no sound escaped it. Patting her hand to where her mouth would be on the helmet, she cocked her head slightly to make it more obvious since her face was no longer visible.

Mando didn't answer, though she knew he had seen her by the slight tilt of his helmet. Snapping away, the man resigned himself to staring at the forge as the armorer melted down the beskar bars to begin forging their equipment. Rather than feel slightly defeated by his neglect, the girl settled her eyes on the forge, the hot blue flames lancing upward. They were blistering, licking the containers, melting the metal within a few short minutes. Each strike reverberated in her ears, singing a poetic song of battles, space, and wonder. Lulled by the beautiful noises, she propped her chin on her hands and leaned in, watching intently as the sparks flew like little shooting stars, time falling away as her bones dug into her knees and her shoulder tensed from having maintained the same position for so long.

Finally, the armorer turned toward them, beckoning them forward to bestow the honor of the armor. The girl felt her heart flutter quickly, heat touching her cheeks like the kissing of the forge to the beskar steel as she glanced uncertainly toward Mando. Despite having been irritated with the situation, the man gave her a short nod, letting her go forward first.

Each step jarred her hips, her breathing loud in her ears as she darted nervously toward the armorer. Lifting a golden red heartplate, the armorer assisted in strapping it onto her narrow, flighty chest. Her gloved fingers caressed the metal, which was surprisingly light despite the thickness and rigidity of it against her slender frame. The hue matched her helmet, unlike the clean and burnished silver heartplate that the armorer was now offering Mando. Caught in her own admiration of the work, she stood in front of the forge, catching the glowing blue flames across the steel. Sighing, she glanced back toward him, the red durasteel being discarded with an ugly bang, unlike the strong, melodic ring of the beskar. 

He was also given a new glove for his kit, leaving the girl to watch on with fixation. His armor was a work of art, glistening with the ghostly flicker of the flames, almost as if there were dozens of spirits trapped in the steel. Finally, he relished her with a look. 

"Come on, kid," he grumbled, turning back toward the doorway as they left the forge and armorer behind. Even if he was displeased with their arrangement, he wasn't going to out her in front of the others. Continuing past the other Mandalorians, the girl paused, noticing that they were giving her approving nods, signalling quietly their warmth toward her. Smiling faintly to herself, she turned her head back up to Mando, though the same warmth was not observed from him.

Amongst the cavernous sewer tunnels, he finally spoke, "What are you doing?"

_ 'Walking.' _

Not appreciating the whipping remark, he cast his helmet down in a tense manner. "What did you say to them to make them agree?"

_ 'Nothing.' _

"Clearly,  _ not _ ," he gritted between his teeth. 

_ 'I don't want to go with you either. I would have gone with another if it was allowed,'  _ she signed hotly. Why was this suddenly her fault? As if she had somehow coerced the Mandalorians into sticking her with him. _ 'I have nowhere to go. My mark... the Assassin's Guild might get me in trouble. Being like this is better. Bring me back if you do not wish to train me.' _

"It doesn't work like that," he told her tartly. "I brought you here. According to the Way, you are my foundling. Even though you are too old."

_ 'I could be 15 for all I know,' _ the girl pointed out. 

"You could be, but I think... you're a little older than that," he let out a bitter sigh. "A carbon dater would give us a better idea, but... it doesn't matter. We'll deal with this accordingly--" he spared one more disparagingly look in the girl's direction. "Thank you. For earlier."

She was taken aback by his gratitude.  _ 'Seems you have some manners,'  _ she quipped.

The Mandalorian didn't give her the satisfaction of an answer or even acknowledgement. Still, she was happier that he had been somewhat nice to her. They were going to be stuck together for a while and this bitter tension between them would only make their relationship as teacher and student more difficult. Back on the surface, the sun glinted through a frond of passing clouds, catching and highlighting the glory of Mando's new beskar armor. Even she ogled, forgetting that her own armor was new, shiny, and gold. With only a helmet and heartplate, she was severely less impressive -- though people's eyes trailed after her nonetheless -- the cutting figure of her small frame, little and petite, perhaps a teenager, though no one could truly tell by the helmet that obscured her features. 

Mandalorians were rarely seen together, let alone one with a foundling. This was unbeknownst to her as she trotted alongside of him, having to give two paces for each long stride he made. Part of her was convinced that he was making an effort to ditch her, expecting that if he walked quickly enough, she'd just disappear in the crowd and never bother him again. Huffing in her mask, she followed him into a cantina.

Inside the warm glow of the common house, there were many things to observe. Naturally, her eyes raked across the crowd, taking note of the arsenal of weapons each patron wore. These were bounty hunters, just like her mentor. Aliens of all shapes, colors, and sizes were bowed over tables having been discussing hunts, tips, and stories. Straining to hear one such tale, she was interrupted only when Mando gave her a slight push, indicating not to linger. They were being watched with hooded, jaded eyes, silence thick enough to cut it with a vibro-blade. 

_ 'Kriff, what did you do to them all?' _ she asked.

Approaching a dark skinned human male who berating a hunter for their failure, his brows lifted at the approach of the two Mandalorians. Gazing from the shiny, new beskar plate that Mando wore and then down to her, he tilted his head as if to ask a question. "Mando!" the man greeted animatedly, shooing away the derelict hunter to open his arms excitedly. "And who is this? Didn't take you much for having a partner."

"My student," Mando said shortly, leaving the subject there.

"Welcome, kid. My name is Greef Karga. You got a name?"

Mando raised a hand to prevent her from signing anything. "No. We're here for work..." pausing he glanced amongst the acrid glares and resent. "How many of them had tracking fobs?"

Karga snorted. "All of them, but none closed the deal," he replied, a smile unfolding across his face like a pleased massiff. "A congratulation is in order for winning the richest reward in the parsec. Come, take a seat with me-" he motioned to a table nearby, harrying the droid bartender for a round of drinks.

"No, we're fine-" Mando indicated toward the drinks.

"Ah, thought I'd give it another try," Karga said wryly, as if he were expecting this. "Your success is my success. The others -- they're jealous. Is there any way I can show my gratitude toward you? You've made me quite a bit of money, especially with the last bounty."

"The next job," Mando insisted sternly.

Rolling her neck, the girl glanced around the bar, aware of the envious eyes. Hair prickling on the back of her neck, she let out a short breath, disliking the amount of attention they had. What if a fight broke out? She didn't know how good she would be with just the bow, given her muscles still needed developing. Her fingers tapped against the table, left leg dancing antsily as she bounced her heel against the floor.

"Why don't you take some time off? I can uh --" he glanced toward the girl as if she might not hear him. "-- show you around to the Twi'lek healing baths."

She assumed there was a lot more than bathing that went on at such a place, pausing her fidgeting to glance at Karga. A clever remark was in her mind, but Mando had made it obvious he didn't want her signing in the cantina. Rather, she glanced up at her mentor and tipped her head suggestively. 

He kicked her under the table. Karga caught the sound and grinned. "Funny kid you’ve got here. Didn't take you for much of the nurturing type, Mando. I mean, if you insist, I've got targets, but they're all far away. Take your pick, you've earned it," he placed the pucks on the table in front of them.

Glancing amongst them, Mando then turned to her. "You decide."

Sifting through the pucks, activating them, she found the furthest target which appeared to be a Mon Calamari by the squid tentacle face. How they were going to discern him from others of his kind, she had no idea, but it seemed like a fun prospect. Flipping the coin a few times in her hand, she offered it to her mentor. There was a pause as he accepted the puck and gave her a reassuring nod. The girl smiled beneath her mask. 

"That one will bring you out to the ocean dunes of Karnac. Is this the kid's first bounty?" Karga glanced back toward her with intrigue, plying the subject as far as Mando might allow it.

"Yes," the only answer he'd betray, pushing his chair back and glancing expectantly in her direction. Getting herself to her feet, she flanked close to Mando, still feeling the heat of the glowering patrons in the cantina. Subconsciously, her fingers twitched for a handgun, something holstered close that would be easier to engage than her bow. "Do you know what the Client intends to do with the child?"

The girl paused, cocking her head to glance back. She had resigned herself to the fact she'd never hold the cute creature again and found it strange that her teacher was still hung up on the baby as well. She wouldn't have assumed that, but thinking back on it, he had been rather broody. Scratch that, he was always broody, but she had assumed it was in due part to having to take her on as a responsibility.

"Didn't ask. It's against the code. Bad for business to pry," Greef shrugged, unbothered by the fact that the child was in someone's clutches. 

"They worked for the Empire. What were they doing on Nevarro?"

She knew what the Empire was, but not exactly what they had done. Those memories were gone. However, it brought a sinking feeling to the pit of her stomach, roiling tartly like a sour meal. Bad. They were bad. 

"The Empire is gone. All that is left are mercenaries and warlords trying to make their own last stands. Go back to the Core Worlds and report it to the New Republic if it bothers you so much," Karga retorted lightly, obviously complacent with the Client that they had served. Why would he care? Money was money, regardless what hand is paying. Yet -- she glanced to Mando, curious that the bounty hunter seemed to abide by some code of honor. He had also insisted on paying Kuiil, accepting her as a passenger in exchange for all of the Ugnaught's assistance. Then there were the Mandalorians down below too. They had accepted her even though she was some sort of mute ex-assassin. The Way guided them and now it was to guide her.

Rolling his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, Mando turned away. "It was a joke," he grumbled.

"Enjoy your reward. Buy yourself a camtono of spice and you'll forget all about the exchange by the type you get out of hyperspace," Karga suggested as the pair trotted out the door and back into the dusky light of the afternoon, more clouds having rolled in to blot out the sun. 

"Come on kid, we need to pick up a few things before leaving," Mando said briskly, setting off with a quick pace once again, causing her short legs to snap after him as she was nearly jogging to keep up. 

Out in the marketplace, Mando stopped at the local arms store. "Pick one. You need something quicker than the bow," he told her.

Thumbing through the small arsenal in front of them, the girl reached for a compact handgun. Turning it over, the finely polished, curved, wooden grip and the short muzzle, she flipped the safety and then swapped it back. Nodding, she glanced back up to Mando, who put a holster down on the counter as well. 

"DL-22, a reliable blaster pistol, holds 100 shots," Mando explained to her, holding it up as they walked and she secured the holster to her belt. "Do you know how to use it?"

_ ‘I think so,’  _ she answered. They were approaching the edge of the town, wind kicking up the black dust from the lava fields and bringing it across the sandy dunes. Exiting the gates, he placed it back in her palm.

"Show me now, aim over there for that crest. I want to be certain your form is correct," Mando objected, pointing out a hill that had a black smear on it, a collection of lava rocks that set it apart from the others.

The girl raised the pistol, bracing the hand holding it with her bottom arm for the recoil. Firing off into the distance, her elbow jumped back at the kick, the unwelcome unfamiliarity of the weapon humming through her body. Lowering it, she frowned.  _ This  _ one wasn't as natural as the bow, even though she could remember how to reload it.

"You're too tense," Mando barked, bringing a leg around to nudge her foot, spreading her legs further apart. He grasped her thin shoulder, jerking her so that she was in a much more supported stance. "Same as the bow. Same form as the bow."

There wasn't much effort in moving her around like a mannequin. She was still tiny and underweight, nearly falling over at how roughly Mando positioned her. A low, irritated breath escaped her lips as he continued to critique her after each shot, kicking her legs back out, snapping at her thinly. It wasn't the ordering around that was bothersome -- she could take orders without flinching. No, it was his coarse manhandling of her. After the umpteenth time, she rounded on him, holstering her pistol to sign.

_ 'Stop being so rough!' _

He laughed, cold and sharp through his modulator. "You didn't think I'd be nicer to you because you're my student now, did you?" he let the silence hang out to dry before picking back up. "You need this drilled into your head so you don't get us killed. You're frail and weak right now. Some muscle memory will not help us, especially when you're as thin as a stick. There's still that knowledge in your head -- deep down -- and we're going to make a Mandalorian out of you. Unfortunately, you don't have the luxury of growing into this."

Huffing, she turned back, whipping the pistol out and firing. She skimmed the hill and then lowered the weapon once again, feeling grouchy that she'd missed another time. 

"Kid," this time his voice was softer, almost weary as he sighed. "Like  _ this _ ." Coming up behind her, he grabbed her hips. Expecting another rough plant, she was astonished when he guided her more gently. Her skin crawled beneath her beskar and leather, the strong grip on her, the static lancing through her at this innocent, yet intimate manner in guiding her. Frazzled slightly as his beskar tapped hers lightly, the heartplates singing quietly, she felt his bandolier push against her belt. 

Distracted was a pretty good way to put it, her fingers quaking slightly as he gripped her arms, forcing her elbows out of their locked position. Her finger flickered to the trigger, firing as the bottom of her bated breath, hitting the target. "See? You need to relax," his voice was beside her ear, calm and steady, deep too. The baby hairs on her arms and neck were standing straight up, suddenly incredibly self conscious of how loud she was mouth breathing.

Mando stepped away, as if realizing what he was doing with sudden, glaring clarity. "Let's go. There will be more time for practice," he told her, as if he hadn't been pressed against her for just a moment. 

Sliding her pistol into her holster, she swallowed the heavy lump in the back of her throat and ran after him, afraid that he'd close the landing dock and ditch her after the brief exchange. She hadn't even done anything! Back inside the _ Razor Crest _ she set her mind forward, aware that they had a mission to accomplish and she was reading into the training session more than she should. He was her teacher, of course he was just showing her how to properly fire after she had complained of how rough he was being. 

Weak. He had been right. Leaving her in the cargo deck, the girl glanced around, wondering where she'd sleep and what she would do in her spare time. Working at not being weak was probably a good idea. Push-ups, sit ups, crunches, lunges -- there was even a spot where she could do pull ups and hanging sit ups with pieces of scrap and miscellaneous items. Arranging them neatly, the girl started going through her head of how she'd work on building her muscle and the regiment needed to achieve that. 

Only having just attempted her first push up -- and failing miserably -- the ship puttered out. Rolling over on the ground, she managed to grab the side of the ship and pull herself onto her feet as Mando climbed back down the ladder.

_ 'Is it broken?'  _ she asked him.

He was distracted, but glanced at the items she had set aside to use for weights. Whether he garnered her intention, he did not say, instead opening the dock once again. "Come."

She followed him again, wondering why they were going back into town after having taken their puck. Maybe he wanted to trade it because she'd chosen one so far from Nevarro. Chewing on her lip, her eyes went back to him, and then to the milling town. Coming in front of an unfamiliar location, Mando paused, turning to her. 

" _ Cover _ me. Do not engage on your own," he snipped thinly.

They stood in an alley, the pram that the child had been housed in was discarded in a bin, riddled with dents and miscare. She reached forward to touch it, flinching slightly as her mentor continued onward, gesticulating to the roof. Climbing up behind him, they laid prone against it. 

"Here-" he tapped the side of her helm, flipping through the modes. "The trident setting."

The radio static fizzed, filling her ears with snow before it focused down on the conversation. Realization dawned on her that they were seeking the child, given the state of the pram in the trash, and now Mando's quiet insistence to eavesdrop. Straining against the intermittent noise, she could discern the simpering of a more passive man, balking beneath the commanding voice of an older male. 

Extract the material. Didn't matter if it lived. No, don't hurt it, it needs to return alive.

Her fingers tightened, scraping the metal of the roof, a hot breath parting from her mouth. It should have fogged the mask, but didn't. Even though green and small, the child was being referred to as an object to be drained of life force. Remembering the gentle cooing, the plying tridactyl hands reaching for her, those luminous orbs for eyes. Even the horrified exchange where he'd eaten the entire frog was fresh in her mind. This was wrong. The reward of beskar wasn't worth the life of the child. Blood money. 

Mando led the way back down the roof, offering a steadying hand as she squirmed on the edge, trying to see where she was going to land. Picking her up like a child by the hips, he pulled her the rest of the way down before they crept back around to the entrance of the building. Had she had anything on her mind other than the child, she might've felt the familiar sting of his grip on her, but she couldn't get the soft brown eyes of the baby out of her head.

Her hand flew to her holster, nodding at him as he banged on the green door. She stepped out of the way of the door, pressing her back against the nearby wall as he took point. With a hiss and squeal, the door parted open and a droid glanced around expectantly. Mando flew forward, wrestling the droid down before ripping its head off with such rage that you might have expected that it'd insulted his mother at one point. Dropping the droid in a heap of sparks and pittering, he swept around, dragging her by the fur collar on her attire, promptly placing a detonator on the nearby wall.

Ducking behind a trash receptacle, she drew her blaster and glanced across the alley where Mando was hiding opposite of her. The bomb exploded, raining down small bits of shrapnel, the smell of smoke and small electrical fires greeting them like an old pal. A pair of stormtroopers came up to investigate, disengaged rapidly by the red bolts from Mando's blaster. Bodies collapsing in a heap, they edged forward, ducking into the hole that had been made by the detonator. 

Another trooper rounded down the hall, coming to a sputtering stop when they noticed the bodies of their comrades. Given little time to lift his blaster, he was gunned down by the Mandalorian who was prowling forward like an irritated Nexu. A door beside them opened, the girl rounding on them first to deposit a quick shot to the chest. There was no pounding of blood in her ears, oddly enough, just an eerie calm like the ocean before a storm. Mando didn't acknowledge the shot, simply glancing back before continuing. 

The next stormtrooper was flung forward with a grappling hook, Mando parrying with a vibro-knife before planting it between the ribs of the trooper who had barely a breath to spare before death was forced upon him. She darted over the body, glancing from around a corner as Mando bowled into a laboratory. Two troopers. She took aim and fired, skimming by her mentor and hitting the leftmost trooper in the helmet. Another blaster shot resounded, Mando disengaging the other before turning to the quailing scientist who quaked in his boots.

The girl trotted forward, head on a swivel as she kept turning back toward the closed door, wondering if reinforcements would be upon them at any moment. 

"P-please! Don't shoot me!" the man begged, stammering profusely as Mando's blaster cocked at him.

The girl didn't feel bad, strangely enough. Between the smell of blaster smoke and charred limbs from where the enemy had been smote by the shot -- it was an oddly familiar musk that fell in step with her. These people were bad. They were doing the right thing by killing them. Death should have scared the girl more, instead, she nudged one of the bodies with the toe of her boot with disdain. Empire scum.

"Get the child," he ordered.

Turning away from the door, she saw where the baby was being scanned in a receptacle. Holstering her pistol, she smashed a fist on the machine vindictively before grabbing him.

"D-don't hurt him. Please..." the man quivered, glancing in her direction as she tugged the child close to her chest, nuzzling him beneath her armpit. 

A gunshot went off, but when she turned, she saw that it was only the IT-O Interrogation Unit, not the man. The baby was asleep, weak as it had been after helping save Mando on Arvala-7. However, this was no blissful sleep, the child was exhausted and pained by the pinching in his wrinkled brow.

_ 'Something's not right,' _ she signed quickly. 

"What did you do to him?" Mando snarled, his voice gritty as it came through the vocoder.

"If it weren't for me, he'd be dead," was all the scientist had to offer. There was a scuffle, Mando shoving him to the ground before whipping his head up to gaze intently toward her.

The girl padded forward swiftly, heading into the adjoining storeroom. Sliding behind a crate, she opened her arms again to take a look at the baby who was still unconscious. While she hadn't felt bad about the stormtroopers, her heart winked anxiously at the limp form cuddled in her arms. Desperately, she wanted to hear the gurgling, for him to look up at her with those adoring irises -- only now he would not be able to see her face.

Mando tapped her arm, signaling for her not to move.

Behind her the door hydrolics engaged, opening it. Clopping boots -- two pairs, no... four were audible as flash lights flickered on to try and flush out the intruders. Mando moved with feral grace, precise as a choreographed dance as he drew them away. Darting between the racks, the girl watched in amazement as he distracted them, knocking items over, ambushing one from behind, separating them. One by one, the stormtroopers met their end. Stunning one with a punch before driving him into another, snapping a blaster to his fingers to sear holes in their white armor.

She was still ogling with the child in her arms before he returned, wrenching her to her feet, and dragging her out of the storage room. Act natural. Just leave the compound as if nothing had happened. There were more foes that she had intended, especially given how Karga had mentioned that these Imperials were just remnants from a lost war. Settling the kid into her arm, she drew her pistol with her dominant left hand and clung to Mando's back like a shadow, matching him stride for stride.

Snapped back with a hand, Mando pinned her against the wall just as a blaster shot zipped down the hall and past them. He curved back out, exchanging fire back as she remained where she was. More fire, there were more coming.  _ Where  _ were they coming from? Heat billowed in front of her, causing her to shy away with the child in an effort to shield him with her body, but it was Mando's flamethrower -- the same he had tried to intimidate the Jawas with. Only, this time it wasn't for intimidation, the stormtrooper on the receiving end was burnt to a gruesome crisp, the plastoid melting into his flesh where the flames had graced him with its deadly kiss.

Now they were back in the meeting room, another pod of stormtroopers coming out to meet them from both entrances. Four in total. The girl backed up, feeting strong arms encircling her waist, pinning her arms to her side. She couldn't scream, but a hissing breath parted her lips and she squirmed, trying to free herself. 

"Surrender. We have the girl. You have no idea what you are handling," a trooper announced, nodding slightly toward the one that had a grip on her.

The girl huffed, trying to bunch her legs, trying to push off and fight. If only she could reach her vambrace. Twirling her wrist as Mando assessed the situation, but he began lowering his gun, her heart dropping with it. No. No, no, no, no! She tapped her wrist against the trooper's leg, engaging the grappling hook, which sliced forward and rendered the boot apart, sinking into his flesh, spurting blood against her trousers. Shouting in pain from the evisceration, the girl seized the opportunity to jerk her arm, pulling him off his feet before turning the blaster on him just as the child stirred in her arms.

Around her, high pitched whistles hummed, guttering out as tiny missiles found their targets, killing the other troopers who had been closing in on them. Whistling birds, the newest addition to Mando's arsenal, though she hadn't understood what they did at first. Nodding his head in the direction of the door, the girl followed after him after she retrieved her grappling hook, making a face at the gore that covered it as it folded and retreated into her vambrace. Breaking into the street, they slowed down to a walk, not trying to elicit unwarranted attention.

A tiny hand dug into the side of her heartplate, where a small gap was before the armor joined to encase her. The child cooed, prodding her, not recognizing her, but pleased that she had helped him. "Nice job, kid," Mando muttered, glancing at her to make certain she'd escaped most of the scuffle. "You're going to have to clean that later-" he gestured to the grappling hook.

Making a quick, but short gesture-  _ 'Don't think I used it right.' _

Mando snorted -- actually snorted. Or at least that's how she interpreted the noise being translated by the vocoder. Darkness was coming down quickly on Nevarro, smothering all remnants of light that was being chased away at the edge of the horizon. Disquiet flooded the streets, shutters closing, and residents bunkering down. This was not typical nightlife, no one milled around, and it wasn't that late. A chill breeze -- cooler than normal on Nevarro -- lanced against them as they stepped down the street with the gates in view.

"Welcome, Mando... Kid... Bring the package forward and leave it," Greef Karga stood before them, blocking their path to freedom. Her fingers reflexively tightened on the child, his eyes turning up to her desperately, as he nuzzled away from the bounty hunters crawling out from the shadows. 

"Step aside Karga. We're leaving," Mando retorted, not balking, despite the growing number of foes beginning to surround them.

"Come on Mando, just put the bounty down and I'll let you and your kid walk. You're needlessly putting her in danger here. Is that all really worth the package?" Karga entreated lightly, still making an attempt to diffuse the situation as his men continued to move inward to pin them. The girl's fingers hovered near her pistol, but she knew even if she managed to peel one of them off they were out wide in the open with no cover.

"The child is coming with us," Mando insisted sternly.

"If you truly care for the child, you would put it in the speeder and discuss the terms with me-" an R6 droid booped in acknowledgement on the speeder, glancing in their direction.

Back to her mentor, the girl caught a quick flash of his hand by his leg.  _ 'Hide.' _ "How do I know I can trust you?" 

"I'm your only hope," the bounty hunter chuckled.

She had been erring to the side, edging away slowly at his signal. Mando threw one more look at them, observing her and the sleeping child. His hand snapped to his blaster and the girl ran, sliding underneath the repulsorlift, pressing herself flat to the ground beneath the scant amount of feet between the vehicle and the soil. The child cocked precariously in her arm, she shifted to slide onto her belly, pulling the blaster in front of her, the child against the nape of her neck. There wasn't much to see, but she fired from underneath at the approaching feet. 

A huff escaped her mouth as someone dropped onto the lift above her, driving all air from her as she was pinned to the ground. The pressure abated, allowing her to wheeze in greedily before realizing that her cover was beginning to move. Kicking a boot into a groove on the lift, she scraped along the ground until she could find a hand hold and cling to the bottom. With just one hand available, her limbs quaked from the effort, only adrenaline keeping her steady and soon that would fail her too. 

Skidding to a violent halt, the girl lost her grasp and was sent sliding forward to the front of the repulsorlift as the momentum wrestled her. Wriggling out from underneath, she managed to pop up with the cover of the repulsorlift to her back, only catching the licking fire from Mando's flamethrower which guttered out. 

"You're going to let me, the girl, and the child leave on the ship and I'll spare the last few hunters you still have out here," Mando issued, though the girl could see that more were scuttling out like cockroaches. 

" _ Or _ , if you refuse to hand of the child, we'll kill you, strip your body for parts -- the girl might be useful for  _ other  _ things, seems she's mature enough, and all the beskar will fetch a pretty price," Greef counter offered, a scathing look skimming over her. 

The girl retorted with a rude gesture, Mando taking a step back to shield her and the child. A strafing hand brushed against her arm and the girl knew this wasn't good. His words had been a bluff, with the intention of intimidating. His flamethrower was out of juice and they only had their blasters in close enough proximity to continue this fire fight. Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin defiantly. She'd go out in this fight and not be used for those 'other things'. At least, she died for something honorable.

Expecting an end, her fingers tightened around her pistol, fingers sweaty beneath her gloves. Only the hissing whirl of jetpacks drew her attention, covering fire raining from above like fire cast from the heavens. She didn't think she'd be more happy to see the helmet of the jerk that had tried to stab Mando, but in that moment she was ecstatic to see him leading the convoy of Mandalorians.

"Go!" Vizsla shouted back to them. "Protect the foundlings!"

"But the Tribe-" Mando objected.

The girl wasn't eager to wait, not while they were in the midst of a battlefield. Her fingers tightened on Mando's belt and she jerked him haphazard after her. Using the surprise the action had garnered, causing him to stumble, before the other Mandalorians chanted, "This is the Way."

He turned toward her, gloved fingers slipping away. There'd be reprimanding later, no doubt, but in the moment, they ran. Legs churning, falling behind the taller Mandalorian. He glanced back, grabbing her by the scruff and hauling her into the ship like a loth-cat. Tossing her back, she collided with the nearby container, gasping as a blaster shot glanced her shoulder, but the child was locked carefully away from where she fell. 

Greef Karga had followed them. 

Biting her lips in pain, the girl struggled to get out of the way as Mando continued to fight. There was the hiss of gas before a shot went off and the dock groaned up to a close. Mando threw himself up the ladder, starting the ship, and steering them off of Nevarro and away from the fight. Stealing a few sharp breaths, the girl pushed herself to her feet and made an attempt to climb the ladder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! We're off Nevarro and kicking off the season. While there was a little bit of tension between the two, their relationship is strictly platonic at the beginning. The girl may find herself having a bit of a crush on Mando, but it's little more than that at the moment. 
> 
> My intention is to build from teacher and student to partners and then the feels will ensue. Right now, Mando just sees her as a kid, which is his way of ignoring the fact that she's an adult. 
> 
> So if you're not down for the long haul and growing emotions -- I'm sorry!! But I really wanted to do something that was very natural and heartfelt, especially given how Din doesn't share much of himself. Plus, since the girl has a helmet on, it's easier for him to forget that she's pretty and a female.
> 
> PS. Also, not gonna lie, but some of the girl's personality is inspired by Ciri from Witcher. I really wanted to make her a little shit, despite the fact she can't talk audibly.


	4. Din's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din decides to lay low on Sorgan. However, the peace he was expecting is quickly shattered.

There was scuffling, the kid's boots trying to find purchase on the ladder.  _ The kid.  _ That's what he'd taken to calling her, but she was most certainly an adult. Perhaps it was due to her lack of knowledge of the world that had him dubbing her that. The entire situation with her was flabbergasting. His Tribe had decided she was a foundling and placed her as his responsibility. Usually children were foundlings, not a young woman with no memory. There was little use in dwelling on it now, she was his student. 

The kid was scrawny and thin, but she still had the reflexes of someone who was trained. Running through the motions would pick up quickly once she regained her muscles. Even at his back, the kid had managed to cover him a couple of times and disengage a stormtrooper while being pinned. That meant she was resourceful and they were going to need to be resourceful until their scent went cold and they could resume hunting. 

"Kid?" he glanced back, the girl having not made it up yet.

Setting the ship on autopilot, he left the cockpit to see what the holdup was. Even if a bit irritated by how she'd jerked him in the direction of the ship, he knew that the kid was just trying to escape while they had the chance. Slumped against the storage container, the kid was gripping her bicep, the child placed on top of the box, still gazing around lethargically. The armor suited her well, as much as he hated to admit it. 

"You alright, kid?"

She shook her head, lifting a dark glove to reveal it was slick with blood. 

He cursed under his breath, aware that the girl couldn't have yelled for him for help. She must have taken the blaster shot that Greef had fired into the ship. Striding toward a drawer, he jerked out a can of bacta-spray. He returned to her quivering slightly from exhaustion, perhaps a bit of shock as well, gripping her injury tightly. 

"Let go," he ordered, needing to get a better look at the damage.

The kid hesitated before lifting her palm, the shot having lanced through the outer layer of padded shirt, cutting into her olive skin, gouging a deep slice which was cauterized at the edges. He took her arm, the girl leaning back against the container as she breathed heavily, not so much as a whimper or cry in the back of her throat... then again, she couldn't. 

Once he had finished tending her injury, he gave her a look over again, checking if there were anymore as she wearily lifted her hands to thank him. He bonked her gently on the top of her helmet with his balled fist. "Good job kid. Go lay down in the bunk. I'll take the child with me."

He expected a bit of obstinance from her, but she only nodded, tugging herself off the container and dragging herself to the bunk. With a singing metallic clang she fell like a board into the bed, refusing to take her boots off as they hung halfway out the door. The kid was small, barely on the cusp of 5 feet and narrow from her emaciation -- which is what made her look more like an adolescent than woman. Part of him wondered if she'd been kept in cryo for a long time, a  _ significantly  _ long time. 

He never kept bounties on the ship for more than a few months, but long exposure for cryo could cause negative effects, especially if said person kept going in between freezing and defrosting. Muscles weren't made to be repeatedly subjected to that kind of stimulation. Might even affect the memory, though he wasn't certain what had happened to her was unintentional. Her severe lack of knowledge made him think it had been done purposely.

Pausing, he glanced in the bunk to see she'd passed out fully clothed in beskar. Best to leave her be for now and decide where he was going to take them. The child was still sleepy, but perked up at the sight of him, ears twitching and eyes widening. He'd put his foundling at severe risk by going back for him, but she had seemed just as eager to take the child out of the clutches of the Empire. It had been her who had watched him their journey back from Arvala-7. Did the child recognize her now that she had beskar on and would no longer bare her face?

He felt a bit sad at that, hoping that the child would come to realize it was her, but it wasn't as if she had a voice for him to remember. Tucking the child against his arm, he climbed back into the cockpit and set him down on the copilot chair. With a huff, he settled back down, offering the baby the unscrewed ball from the controls that had helped him decide to return and forsake the Guild for him. 

Where to go? The Guild might still pursue them, even if he had gunned down Karga. Someplace safe enough to train the kid and keep the child hidden. Out of the way, quiet, not terribly hot or cold. Sorgan? It was a backwater, out of the way place with no industry. Mucking it amongst the locals for a while would give them the coverage to lose their scent trail and allow for the kid to get stronger. 

Living up to her job title, as a Ch'ot G'evoti, the girl proved that in the moment, she was a good shot. Maybe when she was stronger they’d find her a rifle of her own to test his theory that she’d be better on the ground, sniping.

"Well, no one would look for us there," Mando told the child, setting course for Sorgan, engaging the hyperdrive. There would be 8 standard days before their arrival, leaving him time to refill his kit -- such as the whistling birds and detonators. Engaging himself with busy work, he felt a bit tired, but resigned the bed to the kid. Probably would be best to give her a name eventually, but that wasn't up to him. Then there was the topic of teaching her Mando'a. She wouldn't be able to speak it, but at the very least he could teach her how to understand it. 

Mando worked for a few hours, returning to the cockpit to check the controls again. Eventually, he dozed in the chair, only waking when his back ailed him from growing stiff. Ducking back beneath deck, he saw that the girl was awake, fiddling with the net bed she had made before. She'd created a hammock large enough for her to sleep in, nestled in the corner near the ladder. Cocking her head, she acknowledged him, but did not speak.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

_ 'Sore.' _

"To be expected," he shrugged, turning back to the bunk, considering laying down in it and removing his beskar for a little bit. Thus far, the girl understood the implications of her oath, following the Creed without removing her helm since he'd met up with her again. "I'm going to sleep. Keep an eye on the child. Take this time to eat or wash up. There's a refresher right over there-" he gestured to the spot. 

Nodding slowly, the girl glanced in the direction of the refresher before he turned in, savoring the feeling of a cot instead of the pilot's chair. Removing his boots first, he stripped off his armor after, leaving his helmet for last. Glancing in the mirror, he frowned at his mess of hair, including some stubble on his face, and the way the sweat curled his brown locks. Funny, he thought back to the girl and her copper brown eyes. Only got to see them a few times and now the image was beginning to fade, replaced only by the red-gold helm she wore. 

He had thought often about finally getting a foundling of his own to train and raise as a child of his own. Instead, he'd been given a frail girl who couldn't even talk. He shouldn't have taken it out on her, but it was irritating, but with a steadying breath, he knew he shouldn't blame the girl. For her, this was the best option. Donning the helm and turning over a new leaf, no one would know that she had been an assassin. Having promised Kuiil he would find a safe place for the girl, he supposed he had achieved this mission.

A wry laugh passed his lips as he flopped back on the cot, covering his eyes with an arm. This was going to be difficult. He'd already been too rough with her, forgetting that her limbs were weak, but it had been the moment afterward --he passed a boundary. Still, having originally thought of it like a father guiding a daughter, it became glaringly obvious that the gap between their ages was not large enough for such an implication. Instead, his chest pressed to her back, bringing his hips daringly close to hers. Maybe it was because he'd forgotten what it felt like to touch a woman, but the kid was barely that much, considering how small she was.

_ Regardless, it had been a stupid thing to do. You're not thinking with the proper head, _ he reminded himself, turning over restlessly as he tried to force himself to sleep.

More hours had passed than he intended. Glaring at the clock, he realized he'd slept for 12 hours. With a groan, he pushed himself up and redressed himself. "Kid, I'm coming out," he warned, giving her a moment to replace her helm if needed. After a minute, he opened the door and saw the kid on the ground, doing small runs between the sides of the ship with heavy scraps in her hands. She barely paid him heed, puffing back and forth, determined to whip the athleticism back into herself.

Mando watched her for a few minutes, observing her circuit as she dropped the weights with a ding, then laid down and exhaustedly did sit ups, before rolling over to perform poor pushups. It would take time, but he was still impressed by her determination and motivation -- he hadn't even asked her to do that. 

The next couple of days continued like this on their way to Sorgan. Watching the child most of the time, the girl remained below, puffing around until she passed out from exhaustion in her hammock, only to wake up and repeat the cycle. Such dedication was admirable, but he wondered when she would break. There weren't enough pauses between such lengthy workouts, time to let her muscles repair, and still...  _ she kept going. _

They were nearing Sorgan, the clinking of boots against the ladder drawing his attention. The girl was braiding the rest of her wet hair, though her helmet was on and she was in her trousers, boots, and an undershirt tucked into her belt. Her arm still had the angry red scar from the blaster shot, but that was one amongst many. The girl's arms were like tiger stripes, silver and pink lines lancing her biceps. She'd put on weight. 

Lifting the child up after securing her hair, she spun him around in the air, eliciting a twinkling chuckle from the kid. Plopping down in the chair, she cocked a leg out in a lounging manner and tucked the baby into her arm. 

_ 'Are we almost there?'  _ she asked.

"Yes, just another hour," he revealed, turning to face her fully. "You're looking better." In fact, he thought it rather odd that the girl didn't appear half as emaciated as she had when he first met her. There was still room for improvement, but she had muscles now, as if somehow  _ instantly  _ the kid's dedication had turned out immediate results. What  _ were  _ the Ch'ot G'evoti? They were assassins who had no voice, but were there other things about them that weren't entirely human? Maybe... they were genetically modified? He couldn't find an explanation for her rapid improvement in health.

_ 'Can you call me Nix? I don't think I'm a kid.' _

"Nix?" he echoed.

_ 'For Phoenix,'  _ she reached up and tapped the wings on her helmet as if to make a point.

"You want your name to be Phoenix?"

_ 'Nix.' _

"Very well," it was simple, a single syllable, and rather befitting. "But we will not use it around others."

Nix settled back in a rather protesty fit with her shoulders. Despite not being able to see her shoulders, she had learned well how to convey her emotions in her body language. _ 'What's the point then?' _

"You should have a name," he retorted simply, turning away at her vexed gesture. Most wouldn't be able to understand her, so there wasn't much of a point in sharing her name with them. Mando hadn't uttered his since he had left his home planet in the arms of the Death Watch. It had never really mattered much.

The  _ Razor Crest _ dropped out of hyperspace, panning them toward a green and blue planet. Moving into the atmosphere, Nix dropped back down below to put on the rest of her attire. Landing the ship by a village, Mando turned to look at the child who was sitting in the chair behind him. 

"Stay here and don't move," he told the baby, not entirely certain it understood him, but this was only to be a pitstop before continuing to a more remote location. He intended on staying on Sorgan for two months before picking up again. Heading to exit the ship, Nix was tucking her laces into her boots, glancing in his direction, auburn braid swaying. The armorer had chosen to fashion the girl in a very similar style to her own. "Come on, we're going to find out some more information before setting down. The child will be fine on its own."

_ 'You certain?'  _ she signed, pointing behind him.

Turning around, the small green child was waddling up behind him. Pushing a sigh through his vocoder, he relented. "Fine. He can come." Taking a coarse wool satchel bag, he placed the baby in it to keep it from straying too far. Flanking his student, they padded off the  _ Razor Crest  _ and onto the path that led to the village they had passed over. 

Sorgan was a swampy planet with peaty ground. It would take a lot of terraforming in order to make the ground sturdy enough to put large plants on. This was likely why the planet was dotted in small villages that harvested krill for spotchka. 

An unimpressive town greeted them, the natives glancing warily in their direction, the shine of beskar attracting eyes naturally. Perhaps a few eyes trailed to the baby in the satchel, but nothing would happen in such a rural place. Not by the look of these people and their lack of weaponry. The common house hosted a large grill for food, the patrons all human, a loth-cat growling at the approach of the masked strangers. The baby started at the noise, ducking into the bag to hide.

A proprietor glanced up at the bar upon their approach, eyes swapping between the two Mandalorians, before she smiled. "Can I interest you in anything?"

"Bone broth for him," he ordered, patting the bag with the kid in it. His eyes slid around the room, settling on a countenance dressed in green, sitting in the corner away from the crowd. She was out of place amongst the others, too large, too imposing, too much like a soldier. "Who is that?" he nodded slightly in her direction.

"She's been patronizing the common house for a week now," the bartender shrugged. 

"What's her business here?" he pried, noticing that the woman was reluctant to betray this information. Reaching into his pocket, he slid a few credits across the counter.

"Dunno, but she doesn't look like a log runner," she revealed. "I'll get that broth for you and some spotchka."

Turning back to look toward the woman, she had disappeared. Nix tugged on his arm. _ 'Stripes.' _

Did the girl know what the Rebels were? She had pointed out the tattoo on the woman's arm. "Wait here with the kid," he ordered, spinning on his heel to go and investigate further. Turning the corner out the door, he glanced around for a hint of where the woman had disappeared. Engaging the infrared sensors on his helm, he found the still lingering signatures of her footprints. Coming round the curve of the building, strong hands came down hard on his back.

Turning in an attempt to brush off the hardest bit of her hit, gripping her outstretched arm. She snaked it back, forcing another fist toward his neck. Blocking this thrust jarred the muscles in his arms and she gave him no reprieve, delivering another punch to his gut. She snaked beneath the rest of his heartplate and sent him stumbling to the ground. Rolling, he engaged his flamethrower, wincing as her boot stomped down on his vambrace, preventing the flame from reaching her. 

He kicked her leg, dropping her to one knee, seizing the opportunity to get back to his feet and make another attempt at grappling her. Wrestling hand to hand, he utilized her momentum against her, throwing her into the supply crates, drawing his pistol as she rounded, drawing her own. Another weapon cocked, the woman's chest heaving as golden beskar glinted in the light, Nix standing over her, blaster pointed directly at her.

"Right. There were two of you," she breathed.

Mando was dismayed that Nix hadn't listened to him, but she had covered his back as he'd told her to on Nevarro. Lowering his pistol, he noticed the child waddling up with a bowl of broth. He wasn’t interested in continuing the fight, but he had wanted to make certain that this woman wasn’t tracking him or would be if she found out about the bounty they possessed. "Want some soup?" he asked the dark haired woman.

Her brows pulled together and she chuckled, returning her blaster to its holster before looking to Nix. "Feather feet over here," she jested. 

_ 'Suppose I picked a befitting name,' _ she signed, only holstering her pistol after Mando had. 

Returning inside of the common house, they sat around a table with the woman, Carasynthia Dune, who was a former Rebel Alliance Shock trooper. Recounting her exploits on Endor, before shifting to having to protect delegates and suppress riots -- which hadn't been her job, nor was she keen on it suddenly becoming that. 

"How did you end up here?" he asked her, watching as Nix poked the child on the nose, causing him to sneeze. 

"Receive an early retirement," Cara grimaced, taking a sip of her spotchka. "Came are you so hard because I figured you had a bounty for me." She let out a long breath, pushing some of her hair out of her face before leveling a hard stare at him. "Look, I was here first. One of us is going to have to pick up, so you'd better move on unless you want another round... though this time I'll be more wary of this pipsqueak," she jerked her thumb to Nix.

Nix had taken an interest in the woman's prowess.  _ 'I say we agree to leave after she shares her secrets on how to achieve such impressive muscles,'  _ the girl signed doggedly.

Mando shook his head at her keenness to be a joker. 

"What did she say?" Cara observed the exchange tersely.

"Nothing. She was asking how you..." he paused, trying to consider how to phrase it. Instead, Nix pretended to push up her sleeve and flexed, pointing to her bicep. 

"Ah," Cara snorted. "Lots of punching."

_ 'Punching??'  _ Nix's head tilted in confusion.

"Planet's taken then," Mando resigned to his student and the child.

_ 'Can't hide on the other side?' _ Nix asked with a bit of sagging in her shoulders.  _ 'Seems nice and quiet.' _

They turned in for the night, returning to the  _ Razor Crest  _ as the sun was setting. Back at the ship, he observed scrapes and marks in the ship where it had been hit by fire from Nevarro. The girl turned back in, putting the child back on the ship before doing a few pull ups on the edge of where the dock would meet the side of the ship. Swinging on it, she plopped down, crouching and glancing out toward a growing light that was approaching in the inky night. Moths fluttered around the light sources, even exploring the inner parts of the cargo bay. The child hobbled around, reaching imploringly for them, trying to catch one of the beating wings which danced so tauntingly before him. 

_ 'Someone is coming,' _ he glanced up enough to catch her signing.

Her eyesight was perceptive as a repulsorlift speeder approached slowly and tentatively. A pair of men were riding in it, by their mundane garb, he believed that they were local by their generic lack of weaponry and the anxious glances they spared both Mandalorians. What did they see? An old pre-Empire ship with two armored warriors. It didn't matter if Nix was small, the helmet bespoke her oath and she was growing into it with each passing day. Setting down his tools, he stood up to watch warily as the men came up to greet them. Armor basked in the brighter light attached to the repulsorlift speeder, it cast dancing hues across both sets of beskar. 

"H-hello," one man greeted, giving a nervous glance between the two of them. There was no sizing up or consideration, just a hard swallow that bobbed his Adam's apple before he settled back on Mando. "W-we wish to h-hire you. You're a mercenary right?"

The kid cocked her head, inclining toward him, shifting her feet. She was questioning him. Nix had gotten better at finding ways to speak without signing to gauge his own reactions. The silent communication was useful. 

"Our village is being attacked by raiders. We need help defending it, they're stealing our crops and we can barely survive," the other man spoke up, not stammering like his counterpart, gripping the edge of his vehicle tightly. Fear was palpable, but apparently their fear of what might happen to the village was bigger than that of the two masked strangers. 

No, they weren't for hire. Staying on Sorgan with the Rebel Shock Trooper would just attract more attention. It was better to let these people deal with it on their own. Raiders could be combated with proper weapons, it was not his job nor duty to train an army of farmers. "No, we are not interested," he told them, rolling his shoulders in a lax shrug, trying to shake the sharp eyes that pinned him.

"We'll pay you," the first man blubbered, fidgeting with a sack of credits. "We can get more too!  _ Please _ ."

Nix tapped her boot on the dock, creating a steel ring, drawing his eyes up to her. She lifted her palms in a whimsical 'why not?' manner, making him grit his teeth. She was questioning him right in front of these strangers. Sighing, he knew the kid had a good heart, which was why she was pushing his buttons. Raiders shouldn't be too much to deal with, especially for such a backwater planet. It would be easy and Nix could continue to build upon her experiences. The fighting ability might be ingrained in her, but gaining experience was another matter.

"Where is this village?" he turned back to the farmers.

They perked up hopefully, hopefully enough that he had to stifle a sigh. He was getting soft. Was it because of Nix and the child? "On a farm..." one man answered rather ignorantly.

He inclined his head, comprehending that they were farmers by this point. "Is it in the middle of nowhere and do you have lodging?"

"Y-yes!"

"Very well. Payment in advance," Mando held out his gloved palm. There wasn't even an afterthought in these farmers, handing it over swiftly with hope bright in their eyes. The naivety rocked him, he could have just taken the money and gotten back on the ship and they wouldn't have been able to stop him. Still, at least that indicated that these were honest people who really did need help. "Bring us back to the nearby town and we'll travel the rest of the way."

Locking up the  _ Razor Crest _ , they joined the farmers in the repulsorlift speeder, the child nuzzled in his lap, Nix hanging halfway off the edge as she skimmed her fingers against passing fronds from the trees. Glancing back at him, her Y-shaped visor glinted slightly in the moonlight. 

_ 'Should be easy, no?' _

He nodded. 

_ 'Try not to seem so grumpy.' _

He stared at the kid for a long moment, perhaps even a bit of a glare beneath his helmet as she turned back to pulling tree branches. Of course, she'd be able to ready body language well, it was how she communicated with him often. 

Pausing by the town, Mando jumped down from the repulsorlift to find Cara Dune in the cantina. He dropped the bag of credits in front of her with a clink, her dark eyes sliding up to consider him, as if he were bribing her off the planet. "You interested in a round two?" he asked.

Cara grinned.

Joining them on the repulsorlift, they moved across the countryside into dawn. Settling back against speeder, he noticed that Nix had dozed off, her head canted forward slightly, her shoulders slumped. 

"So, we're hunting raiders for lunch money now," Cara remarked with a bit of humor in her voice, staring out amongst the moss covered trees and peaty earth they skimmed over their travel. It was humid, making his armor and clothing a bit clammy over his skin despite the fact he wasn't doing anything but sitting.

Inclining toward her, he pushed out a hefty sigh. "You're in the middle of nowhere," he reminded her. "I'd wager it's a decent deal for someone in your position." She gave him a sharp look before he leaned back in his seat. "Worst case, we turn up with our blasters. Best case is our appearance desters them. I highly doubt there is something in these trees that a shock trooper cannot handle."

Rather than throw another glare at him, Cara just snorted, uncrossing her arms and glancing toward his sleeping student. "How'd she lose her voice?" Small talk. He hated small talk.

"Born that way," he answered simply, which wasn't a lie. As her namesake, she had been reborn from the ashes of a past life with no memory. Technically, with this rebirth it was true that she had been born with no voice. Maybe she really had been born that way, but he expected it had something more to do with the manipulation of DNA for the Ch'ot G'evoti. 

"She your kid?"

"Student," he answered tersely, disliking the prying. 

"Relax," Cara retorted, sensing his rising temper. "Just curious and there's time to pass. Not everyday you bump into a Mandalorian, let alone two."

His shoulders eased and he only offered a short, '"Hm."

"How old is she?"

He groaned at her persistence. "What do you think?"

"I can't exactly see beneath your tincan exteriors, so I can only lodge a guess," Cara retorted hotly, but glanced back at Nix, considering. "A teenager maybe?"

He didn't confirm nor deny her suggestion, resigning himself to silence then being pestered with questions about the girl. Landscape rolling by, they continued for hours, allowing him to slip into a quasi-sleep mode, though each jostle of the repulsorlift he lifted his head to make certain that these 'raiders' weren't about to ambush them. No, it was quiet and serene. No whizzing of ships or machinery. Simple.

Eventually, they arrived at the mundane farming village come dawn, which had paddies for krill farming toward the front. Children ran up, greeting the farmers, welcoming them back. There were so many of them, reminding him of the foundlings back with the Tribe. A dull, throbbing memory, wondering what had happened to them in Nevarro after they had made their hasty departure.  _ They can handle themselves,  _ he told himself, deflecting the emotions that might distract him.

Nix was awake now, picking up the child and placing him on the ground for the other village children to inspect. She stood nearby, monitoring the exchange as the kids chimed excitedly, entreating the baby gently, excited by the arrival of a strange, but adorable child. Relenting after a moment, Nix dropped her hands from her hips when she realized that the children meant no harm and that it might be good for the baby to socialize with others. She glanced back at him, asking permission; he nodded.

The village began unloading boxes from the repulsorlift that they had been riding on, a woman with long dark hair approaching the Mandalorians. A young girl ducked behind her leg shyly. 

"Greetings, thank you for coming. I offer my humble home to the both of you to stay in during your time here. My name is Omera," she paused to glance down at the little girl. "And this is my daughter, Winta... Winta, say hello -- sorry, she's a bit wary of strangers."

Nix bent down, taking a knee to entreat the girl, putting a friendly palm out. Winta watched nervously, but poked out far enough to try and see what Nix was doing. A golden flash of a credit caught the morning sunlight, flicking between her fingers before disappearing as if by magic. It was a simple sleight of hand, Winta stepping forward as Nix made a silly gesture - where did it go? The child grabbed the female's hand, trying to find it. Nix drew away, pulling a tendril of the girl's hair before producing the coin again, placing her free hand to where her mouth would be on the helmet, gasping in surprise.

Winta smiled gently, accepting the coin from Nix, gingerly glancing up as she thumbed the credit. Nix stood back up, dusting her knee off, hooking her thumbs into her belt loops. 

Mando was surprised by the girl's tenderness, though not on the part of being a jester. Nix had proven that she had a sense of humor that was unbecoming of a Mandalorian, but in this moment, he didn't mind it much as Winta glanced between the coin and Nix. No words had been exchanged and yet, he knew that it had meant a lot to the little girl.

Omera had been watching on with interest, her hand behind her daughter's head, smiling slightly before addressing her daughter again. "These are nice people. They are going to protect us from the bad ones," she explained, bending down to pick the child up. Turning away, she led them toward her home, Mando retrieving the small green child before following her.

Winta kept stealing looks at the both of them, particularly Nix, who didn't make another attempt to win the girl's affections. The home was modest and he assumed that the room they had been allowed was Omera's own bedroom and the mother and daughter would be using the girl's room. 

_'I can sleep on the floor,'_ Nix told him, nonplussed by the situation. 

Omera observed the signing. "Do... you not have a voice? You are safe here," her voice was strained slightly, as if almost offended.

"No," Mando broke in easily. "She is mute."

The woman relaxed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you didn't trust us," her cheeks burned slightly at her mistake. 

Trust was a strong word, but did he feel as if these people were a danger? No. There was a distinct difference and also a strange, nostalgia in him. This place was familiar, almost like how his home had been before the Separatists attacked. 

"Can I feed him?" Winta had warmed up, clinging to the edge of the cradle where he had placed the child. 

Pausing for a brief moment, he considered this, and then relented with a nod. There was no harm in letting the little girl help with the baby.

"And then... maybe play?" Winta continued, reaching to the cradle to pick up the child.

He nodded again.

The little girl left with the child, bringing him into the den to feed him. Omera turned back toward the both of them. "I'll bring you food," she dismissed herself.

Nix gave him an awkward glance.  _ 'You can eat first. I wanted to go for a run and explore the village's perimeter,'  _ she told him.

"Don't go looking for trouble," he warned her sternly.

_ 'No promises,' _ she retorted cheekily, placing her bow down on a nearby chair before trotting out of the room. 

Leaving him on his own, Omera returned shortly with two bowls of food, glancing around albeit confused as to where Nix had gone. "Just leave it for her, she'll be back," he told her, smiling slightly at the restlessness of his student. The kid was eager to make herself useful and already, she had done that by breaking the boundary between them and Winta. It was a different kind of usefulness and he'd noticed it with the baby. Nix was lighthearted and good with children, able to keep the child's rapt attention even if he couldn't see her face.

"When is the last time either of you removed your helmet?" she inquired curiously.

"Yesterday," for him anyways. Nix was good at betraying rarely when she was eating. They alternated sleep cycles, allowing for them both to have some free time with their helmets off. 

"Do... you do it in front of one another? I mean-" her cheeks flushed as she tried to find the proper way to phrase it. The color on her face highlighted her comely features and he stared a bit more than he intended. "You are both the same, so it must be alright to remove your helmets in front of each other. Being in this village there won't be much opportunity to."

He didn't mind elaborating, oddly enough, maybe it was because his eyes were tracing the line of her jaw. "No, I wasn't much older than Winta when someone last saw my face."

"Really?" she paused, her eyes softening. "So not even-" she stole a sharp breath. "I'm surprised. I expected at the very least, you and-"

"Nix," he filled in.

" _ Nix _ \- would show your faces to one another."

"We are both grateful that the Mandalorians took us in. My parents were killed and her..." he dropped off, talking more than he had originally intended. However, those imploring eyes on him, he was drawn like a moth to a flame, even if it might burn him. 

"I'm sorry," she made her way to the door, pausing to glance back at him. "Let me know if there is anything else the both of you need."

Once he was alone, he let out a low groan.  _ He was getting soft.  _ He cursed the kid, wondering where she'd gotten off to and if he'd have to go looking for her. How was it that a woman had managed to disarm him so quickly? Maybe it was because Sorgan hosted few threats and it was easy to become comfortable quickly. Or, it was because he'd spent too long cooped up on the  _ Razor Crest _ without any company. 

Reaching up, he removed his helmet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! A bit of a longer chapter and finally the girl gets her name! 
> 
> I wanted to highlight that Din does acknowledge that there are attractive women, including Omera, who draws his attention at the beginning. After all, he's definitely not pining after our frivolous heroine, who acts like a goofball half the time.


	5. Nix's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nix begins helping the village prepare for their fight against the raiders.

She wished that she could feel the air blowing in her face, pushing tendrils of loose baby hairs out of the way, and pelt her sweating skin. Instead, she kept her helmet on, insistent on never betraying the Creed. Hot breath streamed from her mouth in short puffs, her legs churning beneath her as she drew in the scene of the small farming village in Sorgan. Her body was recovering, thrusting itself back into humming familiarity. Though, she'd noticed how odd it was. How _unnatural_ this recovery was. Of course, she wasn't where she wanted to be, but that didn't change the fact that her improvement had been considerable. 

On her days on the _Razor Crest_ she had been insistent on pushing herself, on making herself better. Nix didn't want to be a dead weight, nor did she want to be tossed around like a loth-cat kitten because she was too feeble to keep up. Glancing at her gloved palms, she wondered more about herself as she saw the other humans in the village. She was some kind of assassin or _had_ been. Apparently a special breed. What did that mean? Was that part of the reason she had made such a swift recovery? Nix knew that Mando had to be just as curious, as he had remarked how she looked better once her arm had healed. 

The awkwardness had faded, replaced with a stern division, chasing away the original lump in her throat she'd had back on Nevarro. He was her mentor and Nix was keenly aware that she was nothing but a kid in his eyes. Why not? She barely had enough life experiences to not be considered anything else, even if her body was that of an adult. Coming out here, helping this village, would be a way to continue her exposure and training. Even if she had belittled his authority, Nix hated being idle. There was so much energy in her bones, ready to sprint, ready to fight, ready _to do something._ Blast it, she was just jittery all the time, maybe because she just had all this energy to expend and nothing to do with it.

So she ran laps, trying to drive the air from her lungs enough that she'd be gagging. It was easier to run without the weights in her hands, sweat collecting on the back of her neck, the rhythmic pulsing of her heart beneath the beskar, and her ears hissing with the breaths she pushed out. Maybe if she was sight seer or fond of the mundane, she would have found the town quaint and beautiful. She did like the paddies, the clear water and the slight glow of the krill swimming around. But such a life wouldn't suit her. Nix's very core rejected it. 

_Wonder if it has something to do with my weird makeup. I'm some kind of mutant,_ she thought idly, slowing to a trot as she rounded back toward the village. That should have been enough time for Mando to eat. Truthfully, she could use a meal that wasn't rations. Her stomach growled loudly and she let out a breathy, but silent chuckle, shoulders bouncing slightly.

"Hey, kid!" the Rebel woman drew her attention, waving over at her from a perch on a shipping crate beside a house.

Nix stared at her, thankful that the helmet hit her round, adoring eyes. Now _that_ was the type of body that she wanted one day. Unfortunately for her, she was nearly two heads shorter than Cara. The probability that she would ever become such a unit was unlikely. Instead of continuing toward Omera's house, she joined the shock trooper.

"See anything out on your run?"

Nix wasn't certain if Cara could understand her, so she simply shook her head. Truthfully, she hadn't really looked, focusing on her breathing and the sensation of her heart hammering.

"We'll look tonight too," Cara shrugged, but then shifted the subject. "How old are you, kid?"

Nix didn't know. However, she thought this would be a good opportunity to mess with Cara. Dragging her boot in the dirt, she wrote 100. 

Cara stared and then turned her head back to the girl. "100? _You're_ 100?"

Nix shrugged in a mocking manner. 

Cara wiped away one zero. "There, now it's correct."

Nix scowled behind her helmet, snapping her head toward the woman who gave her a smug smile. She crossed her arms and shook her head obstinately.

"We could settle this," Cara implored lightly. 

Nix cocked her head, lifting a hand simply as if to say, 'How?'

"Carbon dater," and then she paused, a smile creasing her countenance. 

Nix was honestly curious. What would Mando say? Ah, he didn't have to know. At least it would be nice to get a general idea if she was actually a teenager or like... 40 something. She offered an arm, uncertain how a carbon dater worked.

Cara fiddled through her bag, pulling out a contraption. "Have this from my Republic days, however short lived they were," she elaborated, smashing a hand against it to try and make it work. "You don't have a flag on your head, do you? No, you wouldn't, not if you were raised Mandalorian."

 _Uh oh._ Nix went to draw her hand back, but Cara had already pricked her skin, drawing blood. The machine coughed, whirling and wheezing, before searching through the ingrained database. It appeared old and in need of repairs. She was confident in using it, so it wasn't utilizing an active database, just whatever was stored on the memory.

"Damn thing," Cara knocked it again. "Reading is all wrong. Should have assumed that it was broken."

Nix gestured for her to show what the machine was reading.

"No, it can't be right. It's not even reading your blood correctly. Says you're part Chiss among other things, which obviously isn't true by your lack of blue skin," Cara hit it on the side again. "And the reading is off the chart. Says you're 87."

Nix drew her hand away, wondering if the machine was wrong or if it was right and her genetic makeup was all over the place. She rubbed her wrists subconsciously, where the scars were imprinted in her skin, a dull reminder that she had been held up as a prisoner somewhere. Rather than continue standing there awkwardly, she gave a silly tilt of her head, but deferred to head back to Omera's home for lunch.

Just outside the doors, Winta was playing with the child, drawing the attention of the other kids in the proximity. She watched for a moment, but complacently entered the house, knocking on the door of the shared room. After a moment, Mando opened the door.

"Didn't think you'd be out there that long," he grumbled, letting her in, about to leave her to some privacy.

However, she caught his arm. _'How much do you know about the Ch'ot G'evoti?'_

He observed her silently, tilting his helmet slightly, trying to gauge what she was thinking. "As much as you do."

_'Are they... human?'_

" _You_ look human," Mando retorted sternly.

_'Am I?'_

Silence hung between them, a sigh pushing itself through his vocoder. He shut the door and turned back toward her, leaning against it to address her properly. "Why are you wondering this now?"

 _'Dune had a carbon dater. She thinks it was broken, but I think it was right,'_ she explained, wondering if he'd be cross with her for entertaining the subject. If she was wanted, the machine could have gone off... but she had been curious. 

"What did it say?"

_'That I'm 87 and part Chiss. I didn't get to take a look at it, but Dune chalked it up to a malfunction.'_

"The age might be right," Mando conceded after a long pause. "You might have been in and out of cryo. It would explain how emaciated you were-" a sharp breath surprised her as he stared at her silently. Just the lack of talking made her anxious, she began tapping her fingers against her thigh. "-and, you might not be entirely human. You recovered too quickly."

 _'I thought the same,'_ she admitted honestly. _'Does... that change anything?'_

"No, you are still my student," he paused. "Even if you are some weird, genetically modified mutant," he deadpanned this, but it sounded like an attempt at a joke. 

_'Leave the witty remarks to me,'_ she cocked her head whimsically. _'Ripe age helps develop a good sense of humor. You still have a while to go.'_

Mando laughed at her, uncrossing his arms. "Right, ripe age, which you weren't even aware of until a few moments ago. You're still a kid. I wouldn't place you more than 25 before your vacation in cryo."

_'That makes you an old man in comparison then, doesn't it?'_

Mando leveled a glare at her. "I'm not _that_ old."

 _'How old are you?'_ she persisted devilishly.

He didn't reward her with an answer. "Eat your food," and he turned away and left her alone in the room. She snorted slightly, enjoying poking her mentor's buttons, hoping that one day she'd get him to slip up and reveal more about himself. 

Rolling her shoulders, she thought back to the carbon dater, wondering if she really had been in cryo for 50+ years. Wherever she had been, there was no memory of it and she was nonplussed by that. This was her life now and there was no use in dwelling on the past. She had only been curious about her age, which still cryptically evaded her. Somewhere in her twenties was the assumption, so she'd vibe with that. Although, she was rather curious as to how old Mando was since he'd claimed that he wasn't too old. He had been persistent in insisting that she wasn't his child, leading her to believe that he was within 10 years of her expected age. So that made him more like a broody, buckethead older brother. 

_You're a buckethead too now,_ she chastised herself, disengaging her helmet from her head to take a full, deep breath of humid air. Padding over to where a bowl had been left, she spooned it into her mouth. It tasted better than rations, but had gone cold in the time she spent running laps around the village like a nut. Part Chiss? Wasn't Ch'ot G'evoti in Chiss?

 _Weird that I remember that. Maybe I spoke Chiss before,_ she hummed, mopping up the soup with a hunk of bread, washing it down with fresh water. There was no wash room, but Omera had left out a basin with clean water and a rag. Nix cleaned up, peeling off some of her clothes to wipe the worst of her sweat. She replaited her hair, securing the baby hairs away with the water, before getting dressed again. 

The glaring holes in her memory were indicative that whoever had wiped her memory, had been very selective. Was she even supposed to get out of wherever she had been held? Honestly, even those memories were blurry, right before she found Kuiil. She had been so weak, so frail, so _tired_. Sitting down, she put her helmet in her hands, trying to think, trying to remember.

Cold. So very cold. A dark lab, dusty and abandoned, no lights to discern what she was looking at. She had stumbled out, skin slick and shivering, wearing barely more than underclothes. Fortunately, Arvala-7 had been warm, or she might have succumbed to hypothermia. So, a lab. There was no reason to go back to it. If she was really 87 then it had probably been long deserted and her fate there might have been wiped as clean as her memory. 

"Kid."

Glancing up, she saw Mando in the doorway. 

_'Nix,'_ she insisted tartly.

"Come on, we're going to scout the village," he ordered.

Pushing herself to her feet, Nix noticed the fading light just through the window, astonished that she had fixated for so long trying to remember waking up.

Waiting outside, Cara observed both Mandalorians approaching. Without a word, the trio prowled toward the treeline, looking for the first sign of foreign activity. Nix tapped her helmet, engaging the infrared setting, glancing amongst the undergrowth for heat signatures. Fanning out slightly, they formed a line, Mando giving a short wave when he noticed a few frayed branches that hadn't naturally been broken. Nix glanced at it for a few moments, wondering if she had noticed something similar, she hadn't been quite certain what she was looking for until this point.

Pressing ahead, Cara bent down over an impression in the ground; an enormous print. Was it some kind of monster that was native to Sorgan? Until this point, she had been under the assumption that the planet had relatively mild wildlife. Something this large they would have seen by now, right?

"RT-ST Raider," Cara grumbled, standing up and taking a step back. Her face shifted, brows pinching together as she frowned. "This is more than I signed up for."

 _'What is that?'_ she asked Mando.

"A very large combat machine," he answered quietly.

_'Guessing it doesn't belong to the village.'_

He just leveled his T-visor at her, as if the joke was inappropriate at this point in time. "Let's go back. There isn't much we can do for them," he agreed.

Padding back toward the village, many of the locals were waiting around anxiously outside for news of what they discovered. Nix glanced over at her mentor, noticing the tense twitch in his shoulders. Omera and Winta stood in front of their house amongst others. Her heart sank, feeling terrible that they wouldn't be able to help these people. 

"Your people cannot live here anymore," Mando told them sternly and without much preface. Immediately, his words roused a bit of a reaction, villagers turning to one another with shocked faces and fear.

"I'm sorry, we know this is not the news you want to hear, but there are no other options," Cara broke in, much more empathetic and reasonable sounding than Mando. 

"What about your job? We paid you!" one of the farmers spit back hotly.

"That was before we knew about the Imperial walker," Cara frowned. "Sorgan is a big planet. You should pack up and move somewhere safer."

Nix glanced between the people. This was a simple suggestion, but she saw that it rattled them to the core. They did not want to move. It wasn't as simple as both warriors made it sound. "My grandfather seeded these ponds!"

"It took generations to build this village," another inputted.

"You are farmers, not fighters. Do not make a last stand here, you will not survive it," Mando attempted to ease, but his voice was still gritty and cool coming from the vocoder. 

"I have seen AT-ST walkers take out entire companies of soldiers within minutes -- _trained soldiers_ ," Cara insisted.

"We are not leaving," Omera broke in this time, stepping up amongst her people, leveling her gaze toward the trio.

"You can't fight it," Cara bit back.

Silence was impeded by the hum of toads and frogs in the nearby ponds. "Perhaps we can, if we show them how," Mando relented eventually, causing Nix's head to snap to him.

_What?!_

_'Big softie,'_ Nix retorted.

And so they began training the villagers. Nix wasn't certain if this was the best idea, they weren't genetically apt ex-assassins like herself, so the hope that they'd learn as quickly as she did was a faint hope. Most of these people hadn't lifted a weapon in their life and Nix noticed that quite hopelessly. The plan was simple in theory - they had to watch for both the mech and bandits. There was no way that they'd be able to take the AT-ST out with any equipment they had, they'd need just as formidable of a mech and using the _Razor Crest_ would only result in it getting blasted to bits. 

Cara outlined the plans, she and Mando were going to be the ones who would make a beeline for the AT-ST to try and plant bombs on it. However, they needed to trap the long legs in order to make that a possibility before they got smote into smithereens. Not even beskar would hold up against one shot from this mech, which made Nix shudder at the thought. 

They dug a pit, Nix getting down below with the villagers to help put her back into it. This would be utilized to trip the AT-ST, which would be lured out to it, just before the makeshift barricades which were to help deter and protect them from the incoming bandits. However, if the AT-ST got close enough, it would be able to blast away what spikes and barriers they had made. 

Between helping set up, Nix found herself being utilized as a marksman teacher. Unable to speak, she found it difficult trying to correct people. Wondering if Mando had done this intentionally to test her, she found a manner in which she could demonstrate proper form, using the same kicking method to help plant villagers properly. However, she was considerably nicer than Mando had been at first. He was too busy discussing things with villagers who had better prospects at fighting, including Omera.

Over the days, Nix noticed that Omera hovered around him. While she seemed to be important amongst the village, Nix was starting to think there was more to it. Why not? Even if Mando was a broody buckethead, there was something attractive about his mysteriousness. Deep, deep, **_deep_ **beneath that silver beskar was a good heart. Omera was perceptive and she must have gleaned that by now, although... it was rather irritating that Omera also referred to her as a kid. Maybe the woman thought she was a teenager and Mando hadn't bothered to correct her.

 _What, you think I'm going to screw your chances of getting laid?_ she thought tartly one afternoon after Omera asked her if she could help some of the other teenagers prepare lunch. _Prepare lunch!_ She was a Mandalorian! She had beskar! Each day, Nix picked up on new things, but Mando seemed to think she had the emotional capabilities of a 16 year old. Sure, her memory might be gone, but Nix _knew_ of the birds and bees. Had there been any interests aside from growing stronger, maybe Nix might have an eye out for a man, but honestly that was the least of her worries. Her goal was still to get as close to Cara's prowess.

"You look rather petulant," Cara observed as Nix rounded a corner. Over the days, Cara had started picking up sign language and even managed to understand some of the girl's body language.

 _'I love being a housewife with the ‘other’ teenagers,'_ Nix retorted, trying to slow her hands for Cara, although her irritation still made her move quickly.

Cara caught her drift though. "You've got an endless amount of energy, sparing it other places aside from combat isn't necessarily bad."

_'I haven't seen you in the kitchen.'_

Cara snorted, drawing an arm around her shoulders, guiding her away from the town. "Yeah, not quite my style."

_'Why is it mine!?'_

"You're young-"'

 _'I'm not as young as you think I am!'_ Nix threw her arms up and made an attempt to tug away from Cara's grasp. _'It's so annoying to be treated like a child. I'm an adult!'_

Cara considered her and let out a low sigh, but refused to lessen her grip on her shoulder. "I'll mention to Mando that you're sick of being on kitchen duty."

 _'Don't bother, he doesn't care.'_ So much for being a mentor, Nix hadn't gotten much time to practice anything with him. It wasn't as if she were jealous of Omera as much as bitter that there wasn't any time to go over drills or Mando'a. 

"Aw come on ki- _Nix_. I don't think he's ignoring you on purpose."

_'You don't know him. I wouldn't doubt that he'd ignore me on purpose.'_

"Hey, why don't we go spar? You're irritated and it's good to throw some punches when your emotions are getting the better of you," Cara suggested, continuing to guide her away from the rush of the town. They ended up behind the village near the edge of the treeline. Cara released her shoulder. "Now, how much hand to hand combat do you know?"

_'Little.'_

" _Really_? Kriff, Mando is skimping on your training," Cara whistled. "Alright, so take a stable position-" 

The shock trooper went into explaining proper form and simple throws and punches. She highlighted the fact that since Nix was small, taking on a much larger opponent - such as herself - would mean there would be a severe disadvantage. That did not, however, mean that it would be impossible. Part of being good at hand to hand combat meant being crafty, using your surroundings and your enemy's momentum against them. Cara retorted that Nix's speed and agility would also be useful. How was Cara supposed to land a blow on her if she was as slippery as a fish out of water?

Toward the end of their lesson, Cara had Nix spar her. There was no shocking end result. Nix lost by a long shot, ending up in a headlock, squirming desperately as she tried to get out of it without removing her helmet. There was no use, it was like trying to pry apart a vice grip. 

"Hey," Mando approached the two women.

Cara laughed and let Nix down, who fell to her knees gagging on her breath. Before she even had a second to fill her lungs, Cara grabbed her by the back of her fur collar and yanked her back to her feet, resulting in a coughing noise from the petite female. Shakily, Nix gave the woman a thumbs up.

"Are you two done fooling around?" Mando asked.

"Fooling around? I was training _your_ student. She doesn't know any hand to hand combat and we're about to fight these bandits," Cara retorted sternly, folding her arms in front of her chest. 

"There are better things to be utilizing our time for, unless you are that confident about our upcoming fight with the AT-ST," Mando quipped, his voice cold and hard.

Nix glanced up to Cara, aware that the soldier was defending her, but... it wasn't fair. _'It's alright, I've got it,'_ she told the ravenette. 

Cara spared her a glance, reaching down and squeezing her shoulder before brushing by Mando roughly.

 _'Got that out of your system?'_ Nix inquired thinly.

"I've been looking for you for a while now. Omera said you were supposed to be helping around the common house," Mando tilted his helmet toward her, leveling a glare. She elicited one quite often, but his voice erred on his fury.

_'Yeah, 'helping' cook. I'm not a chef. I'm a Mandalorian.'_

"Barely."

Nix flinched, dropping her hands as she couldn't even find words to say. Since donning the helmet, she felt as if she had a place and a direction to go in. The cold word, barked at her, his unfaltering stance - it hurt. Everyday she worked so hard. Everyday she was trying to prove to him that she was a good foundling, that he had made the right choice in taking her in. Now, bitter tears formed in the corners of her eyes, obscured by the helmet she wore. She wasn't emotionless. 

Finally, after drawing a sniffling breath, she rudely gestured, _'Fuck you.'_ And spun on her heel, stalking toward the trees, her fists balled. Her blood was pounding in her ears, replacing the tears with anger. A deep, roiling anger unlike any she had felt until this point. What was the point in trying if it would never be recognized? Why hadn't the Tribe put her with someone else?

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, forcing her around.

Nix reacted blindly in her rage, jamming the flat of her palm underneath Mando's head, snapping his head back. She heard his breath hiss, before he grabbed her wrist, digging his fingers into her wrist. Unwilling to be trapped in his grasp, Nix shoved into him, digging her heels into the dirt to make her stand. 

"Kriff! Stop being so difficult!" he snarled.

Nix headbutted him.

Using the brief second she had stunned him, she ripped her hands away and started running. She didn't want to be around his stupid shiny silver buckethead assholeness. Maybe she was being a child, hiding from him like a kid who didn't want to be sent to time out, but he'd told her that she wasn't Mandalorian. Aside from the brief couple of weeks before meeting the Tribe, this had become all she knew. Chest heaving, she leaned up against a tree before sliding down it. Placing her head between her knees she bit her lip, trying to stop the frustrated tears from leaking out. She hated this planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have more developing emotions in Nix, including her bitterness for being ignored and treated as a child.


	6. Din's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle for the village leads into a comfortable lull. But peace can't last forever. Not for Mandalorians.

"Where's Nix?"

He had returned to the village, his jaw aching for the well planted thrust by his student. Trying not to seem miffed, he made an attempt to ignore Cara's question as she was planting detonators. There wasn't time to spend dwelling on less important things and he was stressed out worrying about how these villagers were going to get blasted to hell. Maybe, in his focus, he'd completely forgotten about Nix and had been too coarse with her. While he was still pissed off that she'd hit him, he knew he'd deserved it. The kid didn't have anything aside from the Creed and he'd snapped at her. That wasn't being a good mentor. It was quite the opposite.

"Hey? Where's the kid?" Cara insisted, standing up and glaring. "You didn't yell at her did you? _ I  _ asked her to spar with me. She seemed worked up."

"She's fine," he grumbled.

" _ Where is she? _ The forest could be crawling with bandits."

"She can handle herself," Mando retorted hotly, rounding on the rebel. "She knows when downtime is and will be here."

Cara's dark eyes pierced him with a venomous glare. During their days there, he'd noticed that the woman had taken an interest in Nix. Enough of an interest that she had picked up sign language, though it wasn't too difficult due to her knowledge of kinetic communication from her time amongst the Rebels. "How old is she?" the woman challenged. 

He didn't answer.

"We've been treating her like a kid. Is she actually a kid?"

"No. Not technically," he acknowledged grudgingly.

"What does that even mean? Either she's an adult or not."

"She lost her memory. She's an adult, but just barely."

"Fuck Mando! If she's an adult, do you have any idea how patronizing it is to be treated like a child?" Cara roared, taking him aback.

"She's my apprentice-"

"Oh yeah, I see that's going quite well for you right now," Cara retorted haughtily. 

"We don't have time for this. We're going to be drawing out the bandits soon and I don't need to be at odds with you too."

"Ha," Cara shook her head. "I can do the mission without my emotions clouding my judgement.  _ Can you? _ "

He grit his teeth at the remark, glaring up at the sky, where the last of the day's light was beginning to flee over the trees. Rather than giving her the satisfaction of an answer, he went to check with Omera to make certain the final preparations had been made. He wondered if Omera had been assigning Nix kitchen duty more often than she ought to have. Nix  _ was  _ a Mandalorian and her place was at the front, even if she was good with children. It might have been a simple mistake, but it was enough to rile the young woman up.

This wasn't the night for the conversation, so he didn't voice this to Omera. 

Instead, after telling her that they would be leaving soon, he met back up with Cara. She was still cold, which he supposed by this point, that he had deserved. Nix was his student and he had been ignoring her. If anything, he should have had her working beside him rather than telling her to kriff off and find something to do. Trailing into the woods under the cover of the low light, the outpost they had tracked down, Cara circled round the tanks and placed the detonators to attract their attention.

Covering her back, Mando kept his blaster ready and head on a swivel. But they didn't remain in the tent alone for long, several Klatooinians stumbled in on them. Unwilling to give away their position in the midst of the camp, he darted forward, catching the swing of a fist, before using his opponent's momentum against them, smashing the Klatooinian into a nearby tank, breaking his nose with a spurt of blood and rendering him unconscious. Barely having a moment to react, he turned the next blow and brought an elbow down on the spine of the second foe. 

Another wave entered, leaving them little choice but to result to blasters - despite the highly combustible containers around them. Sneaking a glance back, he covered Cara's exit before turning to run, feeling a blaster bolt glance off his beskar before the tent erupted in a fireball of flames. The heat roiled off his armor, reflecting the mad dancing of the fire, though there was no time to admire it. Instead, they began running toward the entrance of the camp, more bandits appearing from around their campfires.

Long magenta bolts pierced the air, lancing past them and into the thugs. The arrows sliced cleanly through their leather and cloth, killing them instantly. Red light flickered against the tree trunks, the AT-ST walker stirring to life as the arrows provided coverage for him and Cara to run. The first step from the walker made the ground quake, sending his heart hammering faster than it had been before. Through the night vision mode on his helmet, he could see Nix further down the trees, drawing the bow back and sending another bolt flying past them from her kneeling supported position.

She stood up and began tailing it back to the village once they were a dozen paces from her. Even if she had been upset with him, she had still taken up point where they had discussed. For someone so short, the young woman kept ahead of them, her days of running having paid off with this new stamina she hadn't possessed on Nevarro.

The AT-ST stormed through the trees, knocking down several thinner, weaker pines down, each falling with a sorrowful moan. His eyes trailed back toward his student, making certain she had gotten clear of the barricades, but discovered the stupid loth-cat had stopped between the paddies to consider the machine. Lifting its cannons, the walker sent a strong beam toward the village, a building exploding in flames. The villagers tensed, clearly out of their depth and daunted when finally coming face to face with the mech.

He, Cara, and Nix made it back behind the barricade, disturbed by the fact that the mech wasn't moving forward. Instead, it hummed loudly and bright, flood lights swept the area in front of the village. Did it see the trap? Grinding his teeth he knew that all it would take was for the AT-ST to light up the front line and they'd all be dead. However, they sent the bandits forward rather than the machine, almost as if they were reluctant to move ahead and lose it to the farmers. 

Nix was still bitter. He saw it in the female as they fought, putting herself in the front, utilizing the bow in a manner he'd never taught her. Her gold armor glinted in the stuttering light as she snapped the string taut, ducking beneath blaster fire, using her small size to her advantage. When the bandits prowled forward within grappling range, she thrust the horn of the bow, using it like a staff to ram under heads, thawk foes in the chest - stunning them long enough to snare the string back and plant an aggressive bolt in their chest. She had done this before. Maybe not in this life, but the prowess she moved in now was like a well oiled machine. Flinching when she took a blaster to the chest, the slight stutter was replaced with new fervor, her beskar heartplate protecting her.

For the first time, he  _ saw  _ her. She had been working hard and he hadn't even noticed.

His own attention, while constantly shifting to his student, began to simmer away when he realized she didn't need his help. Instead, Cara hissed beside him, "It's not coming forward. We need to lure it-" she shouldered the Amban Rifle that he had passed over to her earlier. "Nix is covering us. I've got an idea."

Before she discussed the idea with him, she pelted forward, diving into the pond with his rifle. She surfaced and began taking potshots at the AT-ST, luring it forward as it tried to locate who was taking shots at it. Omera shouted behind him, sending the remaining uninjured villagers surging forward to meet the raiders who were still bearing down on them. Between blaster shots of his own, he erred closer to the other Mandalorian, who moved dexterously, pirouetting out of the way of a shot, winding up her own before striking down a thug with a loud thrum of the bowstring. A vibro-blade flew from Nix's vambrace, taking another in the eye.

The AT-ST tottered forward, stepping into the pit which seceded into an adjoining pond. Moaning, the machine leaned precariously, lending the opportunity for him to finally destroy it. Legs churning beneath him, he removed the thermal detonator from his bandolier, plunging it through the walker's chassis. The Klatooinians inside roared briefly as he ducked away, detonating the bomb. Light blossomed in his face like a peel of lightning, ears aching at the noise, but he still managed to walk away after the brief shockwave stunned him. 

Remaining bandits began fleeing when they no longer had the support of the mech peeling for them. Disappearing into the woods, he knew that they wouldn't take another chance against a village who bit back. Satisfaction rolled in his chest as the village roared in happiness, hefting their makeshift weapons above their heads.

Crouching down beside the pond, where Cara was breathing heavily against the berm, he said, "Was this all part of the plan?"

"Something like that," she grumbled, her dark hair plastered to her face.

He offered her a hand up and out of the water. Soaked to the bone, the soldier had a bit of a nonplussed expression, though she broke it with a wild, adrenaline filled grin. The people were heralding them, Omera's smile countenance tugging at his heartstrings as he looked toward her. 

Passing by his apprentice, he placed a hand on her shoulder to squeeze it approvingly.

Rather than accept his commendation, she jerked her shoulder out of his grasp and stalked into the village past the reeling locals. Pursing his lips, he knew he'd deserved that. 

The village celebrated their liberation from the raiders and they lingered. While there were aspects that he enjoyed, the peace around them, the way the child had the chance to mingle with others his age, and Omera's company, his relationship with Nix hadn't gotten any better. Instead, she avoided him and particularly Omera. The young woman spent her time practicing in the woods and sparring with Cara, learning hand to hand combat from the shock trooper instead of him. 

He had hoped that her attitude would fade along with her vindictive behavior, but she astonished him by holding her grudge with headstrong will. Sorgan was growing on him, but it wasn't growing on her. Unable to get a word in with her, he'd resigned to waiting until the female was ready to approach him. Only, now he was beginning to doubt that would ever happen. Part of him was expecting that she'd go off on the  _ Razor Crest _ on her own and abandon him on the planet. She didn't know how to fly, so that was the only reason why he expected she hadn't by now.

Cara sat beside him, watching the child play with the other village youngsters. Spinning on a cup of spotchka, she glanced over to him. "He's happy here," she acknowledged.

"That makes one of my crew," he sighed.

"You still won't tell me what you said to her to piss her off," Cara grinned to his regret. 

"Enough," he admitted, ashamed by his outburst still. Nix had proven that she was following the Creed and had pulled her own weight as a Mandalorian. 

"She won't stay here. I can see the wanderlust in her," Cara spoke what he knew. "But you can. Maybe take your helmet off and marry a beautiful young widow... raise your kids here."

Doing that would be a failure to Nix. She didn't know Mando'a or half as much as she needed to survive. Even if she could fight, his work wasn't done with her. "We raised hell some weeks ago and that's too much activity for a backwater world. Word travels fast and it's better to move on," he had lingered because he felt his feelings growing toward Omera. Even if he wanted to take the suggestion that Cara dangled in front of him, he knew that it would only place the entire town in danger. He was wanted and undoubtedly his apprentice was too.

"Shouldn't tell them then. You've been here long enough that everyone assumes you're going to be staying," Cara pointed out.

"I'm thinking about leaving the child here. My life with the kid- _ Nix  _ is too rough. Not the right place for a child. He likes it here. Leaving him here will give him a better chance at life."

Cara cocked a look at him, her brows pushing together. "You'd break his heart. Might piss off Nix even more than she already is if you separate them."

"It's not up to her," Mando asserted sternly. "He'll get over it, just as all kids do." Pushing himself to his feet, he moved with lethargy, knowing that his time here was coming to an end and that he'd have to drag Nix back to the  _ Razor Crest  _ before the both of them were discovered. Pushing the door open to Omera's home - the home that was becoming warmly familiar - he found her over the fire. "Can I have a word with you?"

Omera wiped her hands on a nearby cloth and nodded slowly, following him into the room he had been borrowing. Her dark eyes settled on him, framed by long lashes, her hair shining beautifully in the light of the room. 

"Everything here is... nice. And the child is clearly very happy here," he didn't include his apprentice, though it was glaringly obvious that the other Mandalorian was not happy there. Given her persistence to also ignore Omera, the woman had also gleaned that the young female didn't like her. 

"Are you happy here?" she took a step forward. "Everyone wants you to stay here. The more time that passes... I think she will also lighten up." Her fingers pressed to the cool silver chestplate, her eyes gazing up at him imploringly. He caught his breath, unable to stop his hands from sliding along her shoulders, down her back, then to settle on her waist. "Everyone is grateful. You could pack away your armor if there were any trouble. You and your son could have a good life, give him the childhood he deserves."

Closing his eyes, he tried to control himself, but _ fuck _ he wanted it so badly. The only thing convincing him otherwise was the Y-shaped visor on Nix's golden helmet. Doing this would forsake everything she'd worked for. Omera was wrong, she wouldn't lighten up. She would have already if that were possible. "I-" he began, her fingers sliding over the beskar and against the gaps of the armor where cloth was, into his shoulders, melting away his resolve. 

A bow twanged loudly outside, the cries of children echoing in the village. Ripping himself from Omera he sprinted for the porch, throwing the door open to see what had happened. He was afraid that Nix had finally snapped and attacked the village. Would she do that? Did she remember her past life and intend on retaking it? 

Standing over the body of a Kubaz bounty hunter, Nix's armor glowed in the sunlight. The throng of playing children pinned themselves to the shadow of a nearby house as the young woman bent down, finding the tracking fob on the bounty hunter. Flicking it on, it was the child's countenance not theirs.

Snapping her head in his direction, she made a quick sign. ' _ You're slow.'  _ The first words she'd spared him in a long time.

Grinding his teeth, he hopped the railing to take a look at their charge. Mind buzzing, he knew that brief moment with Omera had fizzled out to nothing. There could be no 'them'. The disappointment was sharp and painful, but he knew that living the life he did came with such inability to live a normal life. The several weeks spent there had been a brief heaven, but it was bitterly sweet. 

They would need to pack up and go.

"We need to talk," he told Nix. 

She jerked her head insolently, but it was a nod. Slinging her bow back into its sheath, she followed him aside as the village drew a collective, deep breath. Leaning against a house, she crossed her arms and leveled her helmet audaciously in his direction. This was the same nervous girl back on Arvala-7, throwing him pining glances as she hoped to sneak conversation with him. There was nothing demure about her now, having grown back in her own skin.

"We need to leave."

_ 'Obviously. We stayed here too long.' _

"Nix," he drew a deep breath, closing his eyes as he considered what he should have told her a while ago. "I'm sorry."

The young woman faltered, clearly not expecting him to apologize. But she was quick. _ 'To what end? Now that we're going to be stuck on a ship together again?' _

"No," he admitted tartly, his very fiber recoiling at the fact that he was trying to apologize to this assertive apprentice. "I was wrong."

His words hung in the air for a despairingly long minute. Finally, Nix replied, but not in the manner he had been hoping. _ 'Doesn't matter. You said what you said. Might as well take this helmet off and stay here while you take the child.' _

_ Kriff, she's stubborn,  _ he thought, feeling his anger beginning to rise again. "You took the Creed as your own. You are Mandalorian."

_ 'Why? Why now? Because you can't stay with Omera? Look, I'm not stupid, I'm not naive, and I'm not a fucking child. If we're going to be stuck on that kriffing ship together, it's only a matter of time before we're at each other's throats again.' _

He didn't want it that way. "I need a partner like you beside me. The child is bonded with you too. We can... work on reparations. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?"

Nix considered him silently, not betraying her emotions. There was no whimsical light-heartedness to her as in the past. Even if she had been annoying, he missed her banter.  _ 'There might be one thing,' _ she relented, loosening her shoulders. 

"What?"

Nix padded up to him, tilting her helmet up to stare at him. Then in a swift, precise blow, she punched him in the gut. Mando keeled over, the breath driven from his lungs. Sucking in air, the young woman stood in front of him, tapping her foot as he recovered. Cara must have taught her that. He still had padding over his abdomen, but the intention of the punch hadn't been to hurt him. It had been to release her pent up frustration with him. _ 'We're not even yet, but that's a start.' _

"Are you just going to beat the kriff out of me until you're happy again?" he grumbled.

_ 'I doubt I could beat the kriff out of you,' _ she reminded him.  _ 'You're forgiven for now.' _

"For now? What does that even mean?"

_ 'For now,'  _ she repeated, leaving him behind.

Packing up their scant belongings into the repulsorlift sled, he glanced back out amongst the village, sighing wistfully. His heart was here, but he couldn't do it in good faith as he was aware the child would be in danger as well as the innocent folk he'd already worked hard to protect. 

"I'll escort you back to the  _ Razor Crest _ ," Omera offered, a sad smile pressing against her lovely countenance. 

"We plan on bypassing the town," he sighed.

Omera glanced toward Nix, who had bent down beside Winta and the child. She used the same sleight of hand trick on the girl, eliciting a quavering smile, the girl throwing her arms around Nix's neck. The young woman stiffened, but relented as she patted the tearful child's back. 

"Thank you for everything," Omera turned back to him, wrapping him in a familiar embrace. He steeled himself, refusing to betray the emotions that ensnared him in that moment. It would be easier for her if he didn't seem upset. 

Turning back to the sled, Nix put Winta down and scooped up the child. His small green form quaked slightly, ears sagging in disappointment as he comprehended that they could no longer say. He pressed his face into Nix's arm, tears forming in the corners of his luminous eyes. 

"Till our paths cross again," Cara stepped out to say goodbye to them both. Cocking a smile at Nix, she gave the young female a hard slap on her shoulder, which made her stumble. "Keep him in line."

_ 'I'll need all the Lucksprites on Endor to have a chance of that.' _

In spite of their strained relationship, those words managed to curve a smile onto his lips. Without sparing another look back, they set off for the ship. Their journey took the better part of the day, but like a sentinel, the  _ Razor Crest _ stood solemnly where it had been left. There were no Jawas on this planet to peel it clean. They moved in swift silence, unloading their gear, and preparing for flight.

While he was moving out of the atmosphere, Nix appeared halfway in the cockpit, signing quickly.  _ 'Can you watch him? I'm going to use the refresher.' _ She plopped the child down on the floor, closing the door before he could get a word in. At least she wasn't being rude. 

The child was still affected by their departure, hobbling up into the copilot seat where he eyed the controls reproachfully. Reaching forward, Mando unscrewed the ball he was leering at, and offered it to him. While it probably hadn't made up for leaving behind his friends, he gurgled and accepted the offering.

Resigning himself to flying in sub-light until he decided where they were going to go, he meandered lazily, listing through the stars and amongst the planets. Eventually, he glanced back at the child, noticing that he dozed in the seat. Setting the ship to auto-pilot, he stood up and picked the kid up, with the intention of putting him in the hammock. Kicking the door a couple of times as an indication of his arrival, he opened it and dropped down.

Nix froze just outside the refresher, which was still steaming from the hot water. Her back faced the ladder and the helmet had come down hastily over her soaking wet hair. She stood only in trousers, trying to force her shirt down with furor. 

_ Fuck. She's put on more weight. _

The young woman was lean, no remnant of the weak, spindly limbs he'd reprimanded her for on Nevarro. Her waist was slender, her skin blemished by scars, and dark golden brown tattoos lanced across her olive shoulder blades and to the small of her back in the form of large wings. These were not new, some of the scars interrupting the design. Jerking her shirt town, she turned around to hurriedly sign at him. 

_ 'What the fuck are you doing?!' _

The undershirt did little to hide her form from his imagination. Her supple breasts were damp against the material, nipples pronounced and hard, having not been given the opportunity to dry herself. Just as she'd warned him before - she was not a child. Turning away, he opened the bunk and then locked himself in. His fingers shook slightly as he put the child into his hammock and he flopped back against the bed.

What had he done? He groaned quietly, trying to force the image of his  _ apprentice  _ out of his head. Could he even call her that anymore? It wasn't as if she needed hints on how to fight. Maybe in learning Mando'a and more of the Creed, but... she had grown rapidly. He cursed the mystery of the Ch'ot G'evoti, but mostly his stupidity in not giving her a moment to signal back that it was alright to come down. Omera’s face flickered behind his eyes as he pushed the image of Nix’s lean body out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nix goes full Legolas/Hawkeye mode. Her fighting style with the bow is in homage to how medieval archers could be utilized up close and far away. They were master marksmen, not just sharpshooters! 
> 
> In the weeks on Sorgan, Nix put on a lot of muscle, which Din realizes to his chagrin. Given her fighting style, she's got a gymnast's physique if that helps put an image of her frame in your head. She's barely on the cusp of 5' so she's rather compact.
> 
> Thank you all for the absolutely wonderful reviews until this point. I am so glad that everyone is enjoying this as much as I like writing it.


	7. Nix's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a dogfight, they're forced to land on Tatooine. An amateur bounty hunter enlists their help. He's kind of cute.

Was she the student or the partner?

The line was beginning to get blurred at this point, mostly because Mando had deferred her training. Ever since their argument before the battle with the raiders, she'd made herself scarce and focused on her own fitness. There had been a few times when he made attempts to talk to her, but there was always that air -- the indifference. He was fixated on what the village offered, the brief amount of peace, and the pretty dark eyes of Omera. 

Nix wasn't jealous. Not in a sexual way. She was bitter that her own assigned mentor couldn't even take the time of day to apologize for telling her she wasn't Mandalorian. She was bitter that with each day she grew stronger, he could barely even throw a glance in her direction. She was bitter that Cara had to take up her hand to hand combat training (even though she was fond of Dune). She was bitter because she hated being ignored, almost as if her lack of voice really made her invisible. 

Most of all, she was bitter because she had been treated like a child, even though she was growing back into her own skin and could see the prowess in her muscles. Maybe she wouldn't be as big as Cara, but the weeks on Sorgan had helped fit her into an impressive physique. Her genetic makeup soared with the stimulation and consistent training. Still, beneath the beskar, leather, and cloth, only Cara knew of her improvement because of their daily grappling. 

Finally, they were leaving. Nothing good could last forever... not that Sorgan had really been good for her aside from the time she had to dedicate to training. And then Mando was imploring her, keenly aware that the small  _ Razor Crest  _ would be abysmal if they couldn't set their differences aside. Her differences? She'd done nothing wrong... aside from not taking orders from a villager. 

She held a grudge, clung to it as if it were a life raft in the middle of an immense ocean. Even Mando's apology was due to being forced. Had he done it earlier, without the threat of the bounty hunter, she might have been less tart. Instead, she took it with a grain of salt, taking out a bit of her vexation to plant a blow on him. It took the edge off the fury bottled in her, but it wasn't until later that she'd realized she had made him squirm.

Back on the  _ Razor Crest  _ he'd walked in on her getting out of the refresher. The stupid buckethead hadn't even given her a moment to answer, because  _ obviously  _ she couldn't call back to tell him she was naked still. While she'd been pissed off, Nix came to understand the severity of what had happened. She wasn't embarrassed, but Mando was. Whether he had the chance to sleep with Omera, she didn't know, and didn't pry. Wasn't her business. But given his deer in the headlights stance, she knew that he hadn't expected her not to look like a 12 year old adolescent. She'd put on 40lbs over the several weeks on Sorgan. Corded muscles, growing into her curves; even if she was small, she was compact and fit.

He avoided her like the plague for the first few days after the ordeal. The original anger she had began to fizzle out with amusement. The great Mandalorian warrior, embarrassed by catching his apprentice half dressed? Sure, that should have sounded more  _ wrong _ , but now she was estimating that their true difference in age was a lot less than originally anticipated. So, she felt herself accepting his apology more, using the opportunity to enjoy his squirming, though she didn't put him in such a compromising situation again - even if it hadn't been her fault. 

Her attention turned back to the child for the most part aside from the hours she'd get on her own to work on fitness. The baby was disappointed to leave the planet. He'd made friends amongst the village and it was difficult for him to be on his own. They might have left him, but the bounty hunter had been tracking the child, not them. She wondered if the baby recognized her from back on Arvala-7, before she had donned the helmet. Part of her thought he did, but it could have also been the actions she took to make certain he made it off of Nevarro alive that had won him over.

She taught the child simple things, how to sign for food... which turned out to be his favorite motion as he always seemed hungry. She couldn't teach him everything, his tridactyl hands making him at a disadvantage to do things like spell. 

She laughed silently, wiping the child's face off as he spat out some of his chewed rations with disdain. 

The ship jerked.

Jumping forward, she grabbed the child off of the perch on the storage container just before they were sent flying across the cargo hold. Her beskar chestplate sang against the wall as she choked on her breath smashing into it, cradling the child close to her chest, blinking away the stars that danced in front of her eyes. Sucking in air greedily, she managed to get back up, the child's hands pressed to her mask with worry. Throwing them up the ladder, she tried to see what was going on.

"Hand the child over. I can bring you in warm or cold," a comlink was open on the dash, showing an enemy pilot who was now trying to gun them out of the sky in a starfighter. 

Nix strapped them into the copilot seat, clutching the child whose eyes stretched wide as he clung to her. Mando focused, not offering a taunt or word back to the opposing pilot. Alarms blared, but Nix didn't know what any of the indicators meant, although the red flashing was indicative enough that they had been hit somewhere. 

The starfighter whirled toward them in an attempt to batter them. Mando listed the ship, engaging the thrusters to leer out of the way, the starfighter passing above in a dangerous miss. Positioning the  _ Razor Crest _ , Mando brought the starfighter into view in front of him, as the ship made an attempt to reposition itself more favorably. It was too late. Mando fired a single cannon shot, obliterating the smaller vessel. 

"That's my line," he grumbled as they evaded the stellar junk from the explosion, flipping a few switches as he assessed the damage that they had taken. "You two alright?"

_ 'Welcome back, only took a dogfight for you to talk to me again,'  _ Nix remarked haughtily. 

"We're losing fuel," he grumbled, ignoring her comment. Mando turned the power off, the ship listing forward for a few moments, before the emergency power shuddered on. "We're going to have to stop on Tatooine."

_ 'As in the planet controlled by the Hutts?'  _

Cara had helped fill her in on a lot of stuff going on in the galaxy. Bridging the gaps in her knowledge, Nix had soaked it all up like a sponge. Tatooine was a miserable, sandy desert planet with two sweltering suns, most of the planet uninhabitable due to the severe heat. It was far from everything and renowned for being a place that only the desperate or wanted stopped in. 

"Yes, that planet," Mando answered sternly. Steering the ship on what power it had left, they limped toward the tan planet. 

"This is Mos Eisley control, paging the _ Razor Crest. _ You're cleared for landing in hangar 3-5," a voice reported.

"Roger," Mando retorted, bringing them down to the assigned location. 

Unbuckling herself as they landed, she set the child in his cradle and caressed his cheek before roaming below deck. Better to leave him here until they assessed the situation. Picking up her bow, she checked the ammo on her blaster, waiting as Mando came up alongside her to drop the dock. 

A set of droids with coin-like heads milled around like racoons, rushing to begin working on the ship. Before Nix had a second to get a good look around the hangar, a blaster shot went off, sending the droids teetering back in fear. Her fingers flicked to her hip, only to realize that it had been Mando who had fired at them.

_ 'Come on! Are you trying to get us into trouble?'  _ she threw her hands up in disdain.

Not that she needed to reprimand him, because a woman with wildly curly hair sputtered out around the corner, fuming at the sound of a gunshot. "What in kriff's name?!" she leveled her glare at the both of them, glancing back her droids for a moment. "If you damage one of them, you'll be paying for it!"

"Keep them away from my ship," Mando retorted thinly, returning his blaster, his voice cold through the modulator.

"That really a good idea? Your ship has a good amount of carbon scoring on the top. It's gonna need a lot of work," the woman snapped, not balking at Mando's attitude.

_ Good, serves him right for being trigger happy,  _ Nix thought tartly, trotting down the ramp to enter the hangar. Hot hair wafted around them, rolling off her shoulders, and eliciting a clammy sweat against the back of her neck. Great. This wasn't even direct sunlight and she was going to be sweating her tits off.

"Fuel leak too. You been in a shootout?" the woman inquired, not waiting for Mando to give an answer. "Don't know how you even landed this thing. It's an absolute mess."

"I have 500 Imperial credits, what can you do with that?" Mando asked brusquely.

Turning back to her droids, she waited for their input, the small mechs shaking their heads. "That should cover your stay in the hangar, not the repairs."

_ 'We're going to need to find work, _ ' she realized, grimacing at having to leave the protection of the hangar to sweat it out in the sweltering desert. Wouldn't be a good place for the kid. Too hot. Even Nix was bitter about the idea of having to scum it up to scrounge up enough credits to make the necessary repairs to the  _ Razor Crest. _ Maybe if they hadn't been traveling in sub-light they wouldn't have gotten in the dogfight in the first place.

"We'll get the money," Mando told the mechanic.

"Yeah," she barked a laugh. "Heard that one before."

Nix tilted her helmet toward him, wondering if it would be wise to leave the ship if the woman barely believed they were going to have the necessary funds to repair it. "Come on," he grumbled to her, turning away and leading the path out toward the city.

Trotting after her, she kept close to his flank, unfamiliar with this planet. Then again, she was unfamiliar with most planets except for some of Sorgan. Sand whistled through the streets, buffering against their armor. Wooden pikes were staked in the ground, battered and browned stormtrooper helmets mounted on them. People milled around despite the bleak weather and the blistering sunlight. The sand should have been choking, how were they used to it? Nix was thankful for the cover of her helmet and the way the sand wasn't whipping around her face.

They found the cantina, which was filled to the brim with various patrons. Her eyes scanned the room, noticing various races to include Jawas, Twi'leks, humans, Snivvians, Lutrillians and others that she couldn't name. It was dimly lit, an amber glow emanating from the bar like a humming lantern. Most occupants were shrouded by shadows, a light jazz swing playing in the corner where a band was located.

Mando leaned on the bar as she continued to keep her eyes open. The tender was a droid, actually many of the workers there were droids. A wry smile twisted her lips up behind her helmet as her mentor entreated the bartendress. "We're looking for work."

"The Bounty Hunters' Guild is no longer operating on Tatooine," the droid answered, pouring a drink with mechanical precision.

"We're not looking for Guild work."

"I'm afraid that will not improve your prospects," the droid turned away to continue working.

_ 'Anywhere else we can look?'  _ she asked, uncertain of how close other settlements were on Tatooine.

"No."

She released a heavy sigh.

"Think again, tin can," a man who had been observing the exchange approached them. He had a wash of dark, slightly curly hair, heavy brows, and verdant eyes. There was youth in him, the way in which he moved with a slight swagger. Settling his gaze between them, first to Mando and then resting on her, he smiled. "Come take a seat with me."

Nix cocked her head up at Mando, who resigned a slow nod.

"Name's Toro Calican," the man introduced as they sat at his table. Even if he was young, he was able to read Mando well enough. "Relax. I'm here for a bounty-" he removed a puck from his pocket, Nix's fingers reaching for her blaster, wondering if the child's face would pop up on it. Instead, it was a woman. "Picked up this bounty before I left the Mid Rim. It's an assassin by the name of Fennec Shand who has been on the run since the New Republic put all her employers in prison."

Her hand dropped and she levied a sigh, observing the holoprojector, drinking in the woman. Fennec Shand huh? First assassin she'd crossed since beginning her new life. Interesting. Did Shand work for the Assassin's Guild? Maybe she had more information or knew her?  _ Too long ago, she doesn't look old enough,  _ she thought idly, tapping her fingers against the table. 

"I'm familiar with Shand," Mando admitted.

"From my calculations, it looks like Shand is heading toward the Dune Sea, should be an easy job," Calican continued in a chipper mood. 

"Good luck with that," he tapped her arm, indicating that it was time to leave.

Before she'd managed to get up from the seat, Calican's confidence broke for a brief second. " _ Wait _ ." They froze, Nix settling back into her chair as she leveled her gaze toward him. 

"How long have you been with the Guild?" Mando pressed.

"Long enough," Calican huffed.

"No," Mando countered. "Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary and made her name killing for the top crime syndicates,  _ including _ the Hutts. If you go after her, you won't last past sunrise... Come on."

Nix stood this time, slightly disappointed that they wouldn't be helping with the job. Maybe it was because she thought Calican was rather handsome or that the desperation cracking in the edge of his voice tugged on a heartstring. Whatever it was, she reluctantly turned back to Mando.

"This is my first job. You can keep the bounty reward," Toro finally betrayed, dropping the puck, and running his fingers through his hair in mild frustration. "I want to get into the Guild and I can't do it alone."

She heard it, the very soft hiss of a sigh that only she could hear from being beside Mando. The slight resignation in his shoulders and the very brief look back. "Meet us in hangar 3-5 in half an hour. Bring 3 speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob." He put his hand out, but instead of relinquishing the fob, Toro threw it at the wall, shattering it.

"Don't worry, I've got it memorized," the man grinned cockily. 

"Meet us in half an hour," Mando grumbled.

"Looks like the both of you are stuck with me," the smile didn't fade as he glanced between them, winking at Nix.

She might have stared too long, enjoying the bit of attention, before Mando clapped her on the back and began ushering her toward the door. Grinding her teeth in dissatisfaction, she moved along with him to brush off his guiding hand. 

_ 'He seems interesting,'  _ she commented after they exited the cantina and started back toward the port. 

"He's green and arrogant," Mando corrected, glancing down at her, a mild bit of amusement in him. "Don't tell me-"

_ 'What?' _ she snapped, her cheeks burning as his perceptive gaze threatened to smite her with embarrassment even though the darkness of the T-visor.

"You find him attractive," Mando filled in, his cool voice erring on mischief.

_ 'I'm not a stoic buckethead like you,' _ Nix retorted, clinging to her pride.

"Don't bother with him. He's not the type."

_ 'The type? The type like Omera who wants to settle down?'  _ she snicked back. _ 'We're on the run. I barely think looking for respectable husband material is at the top of my list.' _

"No one should be at the top of your list."

_ 'Ok, dad.' _

Back in the hangar, Nix trotted up the dock to go check on the child. The pram was waiting in the storage here, not where she had left it. A cool sweat replaced the clammy one she'd had and a knot formed in her stomach as her eyes widened. Boots smacking against the steel, she threw open the pram and gasped when the sweet green baby wasn't smiling back at her. 

Mando entered behind her as she spun around frantically.

_ 'He's gone!' _

"Kid!" he shouted, the panic seizing his heart as well as he spun around.

"Hey, calm down in there-" the curly haired woman reappeared with the child nestled in her arms. The baby blinked a couple of times, winking away the sleep that had taken him. "Oh look what you've done now. I only just got him down for a nap."

"Give me the child," Mando demanded.

"What're the two of you doing? Great parents you are, leaving this poor little one alone on the ship," she chastised with a scowl. "You two have a lot to learn about raising a child... Does she ever talk? Is there some kind of Mandalorian rule about wives not talking?"

Mando threw a glance back at her. Parents. Partners. Now married. She snorted into her vocoder, watching as he tried to explain away their arrangement. "She's not my wife. And no, she's mute," he gritted through his teeth.

_ 'You're quite eager to drive that point,'  _ she jabbed light-heartedly and to his dismay as she came up alongside him. Her eyes settled on the mechanic, realizing that the child had warmed to her. It must've been nice to be close to someone who wasn't wearing a helmet around you 24/7, able to read their expressions and look into their eyes.

"Look, I started on the repairs on the fuel leak, but it's not as easy without the use of droids. It's taking a lot longer than I expected," she looked between them. "I figured you'd be good with your word on money since you've got extra mouths to feed. So that's why I went ahead and started."

"Thank... you," Mando drawled, slightly taken aback by the woman's integrity.

"I assume you two found a job? Costs a lot of money to keep these droids powered up, especially when they're not working," she pointed out haughtily, her mouth still sharp in spite of her confidence in the fact that they'd pay her for the work.

"We did. Should be waiting outside to begin," Mando informed her stoutly, leading the way out of the hangar to where Calican was waiting for them. 

The bikes were old and rusted out, leading Nix to wonder if they'd even survive a trip across the dunes. She'd worked the repulsorlift speeder back on Sorgan a few times, so hopefully the controls on this weren't too different. Calican didn't seem too bothered by the state of them, hands on his hips as he waited for the Mandalorians to saunter up and join them. 

"They're from Corellia, little beat up, but they'll work all the same," Toro elaborated as he observed Mando giving it a look down.

Nix rolled her shoulders, checking her equipment one last time, before trotting up alongside one. 

"Need a hand?" Toro flanked her, offering a hand up, as if her short legs couldn't handle the space in between.

Nix leveled a stare at him, wondering what made him think that she was incapable of getting on the speeder. She'd ridden blurggs just fine. Ignoring his offer, she mounted the speeder and slid up toward the front of the seat, glancing toward Mando who gave her a bemused tilt of his helm as if to say, 'Isn't this what you wanted?'

_ Asshole, _ she thought tartly.

Calican was unbothered by her rebuff, getting on his own speeder before leading the way from the city. Nix found the controls of the speeder to be rather self explanatory. It was much faster than the repulsorlift speeder, but it moved the same. 

The Dune Sea was a rolling landscape of repetitive sandy hills and mountains. Even moving did little to hide them from the beating of the suns and Nix felt her breath steaming against her face as she cooked. If she was uncomfortable in a helmet and heartplate, she could only imagine how hot Mando was in full beskar. He didn't betray his discomfort, keeping his T-visor set ahead as they prowled the dunes and moved closer to their destination.

Mando called a halt before rising another large crest. Her speeder kicked up a peel of sand as she had issues grinding it to a halt. Calican pulled out his macrobinoculars and spied ahead toward moving shapes. She couldn't see that far, waiting on the puttering speeder for an update.

"Tusken Raiders," Calican betrayed.

She knew enough about Tusken Raiders to observe that most humans were not quite fond of them. There wasn't a large party of them up ahead, but the disapproving manner in which Calican referred to them, she was under the assumption that they would be unreasonable. Rather, her mentor spoke up, "They believe themselves the locals and everyone else is trespassing."

"They should keep their distance," Toro quipped obstinately.

"Tell them yourself then," Mando remarked thinly.

Nix found herself falling in line with her mentor. There was no reason to start a fight if they could avoid it, especially if they need to reserve their fire power for Shand. Cocking her head, she glanced toward Toro, wondering why he was being so finicky. Maybe she didn't know enough to comprehend better, but it seemed entreating the Tusken Raiders would be their best bet. 

"Relax," Mando snipped, standing up and approaching the raiders. He motioned for her to follow and listen along, the first bit of true guidance she had received from Sorgan. Following him up to the masked, cloth locals, she watched as he signed to them, echoing in a deep guttural language. Some of it, she could comprehend from his hand signals - he was requesting safe passage across the dunes. Rather than checking with Toro, Mando gave the Tuskens the macrobinoculars that he had passed over without an afterthought. By their body language, Nix could see that they were rather pleased with the exchange.

"Those were brand new!" Calican hissed as the Tusken Raiders began sauntering away with their banthas.

Nix made a motion, as if she were itching her ear in annoyance from his complaints. By this point, she knew that he didn't understand her sign language. Maybe he thought she was mysterious and silent, not quite understanding that she couldn't speak audibly. Turning toward Mando, she said, 'Not very bright, is he?'

Mando shook his head before giving the time of day to Toro. "Our passage is safer than it would have been before. The Dune Seas reach much further than you'd expect."

Nix snorted, revving the engine of her speeder. Continuing forth amongst the rarely changing landscape, her mind wandered. Originally, she had thought Toro attractive until hearing the pittering whine in his voice when Mando had offered up his macrobinoculars. There was something distinctly unattractive about complaining about a fair trade. The Tusken Raiders saw themselves as the locals, so it was only reasonable that they treated them as so. Toro saw them as beneath that. 

Her original attraction was fading quickly, replaced with a keen annoyance as they continued. Mando had been correct, Calican was greener than grass. Even she, someone with only Sorgan and Nevarro under her belt, comprehended better their position. Toro was cocky for no good reason and it was rather off putting. Frowning beneath her mask, they continued forth. 

Drawing up alongside of a shadowed hill, the night casting shadows where two suns usually glared, they found they body of a deceased bounty hunter. Nix dismounted to pick up the puck that was on the body, disdainfully observing that it belonged to their own bounty - Fennec Shand. Glancing down at the work, she knew that the late bounty hunter had been taken out by a strong, sniper shot. Fennec hadn't been anywhere near her opponent when she had struck them down. 

_'Sniper rifle fired this strong of a bolt. No way anything else could have wreaked this havoc,'_ she signed to Mando, turning over the body and observing the severe burns and marks to the corpse. Even her own bow wouldn't had done this. A high powered rifle was behind the strike.

Cresting the hill, Mando glance down the horizon, darting between the sand before falling against his back as a sniper bolt fired above him. Her heart leapt, a gasp penetrating her lips as she watched Mando pin himself to the ground. "Only an MK sniper rifle could have fired that bolt," he told the younger bounty hunter, though he inclined his helmet toward Nix who had observed the slight glance off his armor with anxiety. "I'm fine."

_'Barely,'_ Nix remarked tartly, with the intention of sounding haughty, though she could barely manage that as she worried for the physical state of her mentor. Had the hit struck true, she'd be far more worried about how remote they were than the bounty.

"I don't have beskar," Toro hissed between his teeth. "What should we do? She can pelt us with shots before we even make it close enough to reach her."

"Do you know where the shot came from?" Mando asked.

_'The crest, up on the mountains. She has the high ground,'_ Nix acknowledged thinly, prying herself closer to her mentor to make certain he hadn't been injured. Leave it to him, he'd say he was fine and then _actually_ be hurt. Seeing his good health for herself was a manner to find that he wasn't actually wounded from the sniper shot. A breath parted her lips as she came up alongside of him, observing that his beskar was barely scratched from the exchange. Poising a challenging glance in her direction, Mando didn't speak up on her deference.

"It came from the ridge," Calican finally told him, though Nix had observed it first.

_'A little slow,'_ she told him, turning her attention away from Mando to glance back against the horizon, light finally fading against it.

_'Clearly,'_ Mando signed before speaking. "We will need to wait until total darkness before moving forward. She has the high ground and will wait us out if we do not have the cover of darkness."

Calican grimaced, clearly not keen on waiting longer than he had to. There was no patience in his movements, drawing Nix's eyes as she watched him lean against his speeder in disdain. Impatience would get them nowhere. Only killed. Sighing to herself, she wondered what she had saw in this guy in the cantina other than foolishness. Night approaching, she settled beside Mando, feeling her own attention waning as they hid behind the crest of the hill.

Leaning against Mando slightly, she was only roused from her dozing when Calican snapped at them. "Sleeping on the job?" he glowered at them, as if they were inferior for deferring to their mortal inclinations.

_'What's his problem? Is he keen on getting fucking sniped?'_ she groused to Mando. 

"Maybe," there was a bit of humor in Mando's vocoder as he murmured to her, wakened by Toro's complaining. "Listen. We'll need to ride our speeders between the rocks," he began, sparing a glance down at her. "Nix will cover our movement from here. We will use our flash chargers to blind her. In the darkness of night, such a bright light will take her a while to adjust to to re-aim."

Wondering how she'd feign shots at Shand, Mando peeled off his rifle, handing it over to her. Nix paused, staring down at the rifle, clearly conflicted by the fact that he was trusting her with coverage. Her bow was certainly more comfortable between her hands and she hadn't touched the Amban Rifle since Arvala-7 since he'd snapped at her. Drawing a short breath, she ran her fingers along the groove of the buttstock, the familiarity deep in her bones, though she tried not to betray her excitement.

"Really? You're trusting her? She hasn't said a word from Mos Eisley," Toro admitted, bringing his brooding eyes upon her, eliciting a frown from Nix. All semblance of attraction was fading from the young man, instead replaced with consistent displeasure as he kept proving Mando's original point of him being green.

"Yes," Mando asserted sternly. "Nix is keenly aware of what she is doing. Our best bet is to let her cover us while we ride up on Shand."

She had been biting her lip, giving a stout nod in agreement as Mando vouched for her. If Shand was oppressed by opposing fire, she wouldn't be able to strike true to either man. Though, Calican was at much more of a disadvantage without the beskar. Not that she was particular in defending him, she gave a stout nod to her mentor. She'd do her job without an afterthought and Mando knew that.

"Let's go," Mando ordered as Nix settled against the nape of the hill, pressing the Amban rifle to the nape of her shoulder, thumbing against the flat of the rifle as she settled her face against the scope. She could see the hill, flicking her helmet to the verdant night vision as she drew a deep breath and prepared for the battle. The first shot fired would betray her position, so she'd save it until Fennec betrayed herself. Mando paused beside where she had taken up her prone placement, kneeling to grip her shoulder tightly. "Make your shots count."

_'Do you even know me?'_ she signed, full of attitude as she pushed the rifle aside to make a point.

He chuckled, but didn't spare another word as he climbed on top of his speeder. Nix would cover him over the arrogant, new Guild bounty hunter, that much was obvious just due to her promise to the Tribe. Mandalorians came first. Her attention wouldn't be spared on the man that had promised them the bounty, but her master. Staring down the scope, Nix drew a deep breath as both men pelted down the dunes, expelling a shaky sigh as she prepared herself for the show off.

There was a long still, her breath in her beating ears as she waited in the midst of the night for Shand to make her first move. For all Shand knew, it was just two men, and not another sniper. Her finger hovered flat against the trigger, leering across the dunes to cover Mando. 

The first bolt fired, striking Mando off his speeder and indicating where Shand was holed. Turning the rifle in the direction of the fire, Nix drew a deep breath and stared down the scope. A deep hum emanated in her throat as she glowered, the spot in the groove of the ridge becoming blatantly clear. Don't think about what just happened. Just react. Aiming high, Nix was aware that such a far shot would need observation of the wind and distance. A bolt firing over a mile would require aiming high, since the bolt would naturally begin descending after 300 meters. 

Her fingers grazed the trigger before pulling at the bottom of her breath.

Once the round went off, Nix pried herself to her feet, keenly aware that her position was compromised. Sliding down the hill, kicking up sand around her, she hopped onto her speeder, sling the rifle over her shoulders. It grinded against her bow as she forced it into position, revving the engine. Kicking the machine in the direction she'd seen her mentor fall, Nix fixated her attention on the ridge she trailed after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double whammy today! Enjoy!


	8. Din's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finishing their repairs, they find themselves in a rut to try and gather the credits needed to survive. Din is forced to bring them back amongst a crowd he wanted nothing to do with again.

It'd knocked him right off his speeder.

Shand's strike had been true and if not for his beskar, he would have been dead. However, the assassin clearly hadn't been anticipating Mandalorians hunting her. Just as he was knocked down from his speeder, he watched an opposing bolt lanced across the landscape and lit up right where Shand should have been. His appreciation was short lived, heaving a stifled breath before he managed to get back up.

Calican rode past him, up ahead to apprehend Shand as he tried to regain his composure in the sand. A speeder whirled nearby, his chest aching where the shot had struck true. Nix paused over him, dismounting and bending over to offer him a hand up. Thankful for the support, he accepted her gloved hand as she wrenched him to his feet with surprising strength. 

_'Let's go,'_ she signed, turning back to her speeder which his Amban rifle pressed over her bow. Despite her height, the other Mandalorian was imposing in her prowess. The weeks on Sorgan had worked her confidence and he'd barely come to notice this until now. There was no use in sighing at this as he mounted his own vehicle. Nix was barely his student at this point, drawing more on her past experiences than his training. The armorer had been right in saying that her muscles bespoke her memory.

Jetting forward, they crested upon the spot where Fennec was holed up on. Calican should have been there, should have been apprehending her and sealing the deal. Instead, Nix paused as she inspected the barely moving form of Shand. _'She's barely alive,'_ Nix betrayed, glancing back in distance, her petite form silhouetted against the moonlight.

"Leave her," Mando muttered, realizing that there must have been an exchange between the time he had been struck down on the bike and Nix had checked in on him. What had Shand said? It was possible that she had betrayed their position to Toro, who was eager to prove himself to the Guild. Grinding his teeth, he motioned to her. "We need to get back to Mos Eisley."

Nix stood up, sparing one more glance at Shand, before leaving the assassin to drown in her own blood. There was no satisfaction in finishing off a job like this. The woman had been struck in the abdomen, without help, there was little expectation that she would survive. Abandoning her to the Dune Seas was a death sentence. Mounting her own speeder, Nix nodded and flanked him. Even if there was tension between them, Nix and Mando could work on missions while forgetting their past grievances. 

He respected this.

Nix held grudges and could be annoyingly persistent, but she knew how to keep her head on the task. 

They rode hard for Mos Eisley, his own anxiety rising as they grew closer. Calican had abandoned Shand, leaving him to believe that the green bounty hunter was going to make a spring for them. He'd seen the child and knew that Peli Motto was watching him back at the hangar. Drawing a hissing breath, he glanced toward his companion, wondering if she had realized the same.

_Undoubtedly,_ he thought. Nix wasn't half as daft as he'd thought before. Sorgan had proved that she was much more intelligent and capable than originally anticipated. His heart ached for the small, quaint village, but he knew he would have never belonged. Instead, beside Nix, he felt more like himself, even if his heart was racing at the idea of Calican causing them problems.

Darkness of night was still strong, dawn a few hours off as they approached Mos Eisley. Nix paused, signing to him, _'I'll break off. Better than the both of us being compromised,_ ' she explained, tensing toward her blaster for the first time since Nevarro.

_'Very well, I'll take point,'_ he replied silently, dismounting the speeder, and starting his way gruelingly slow toward the entrance to Motto's hangar. The young man must have realized that Mando was a much bigger target than Shand by this point. It was the only explanation for why he'd left her dying on the ridge. Fingers tensing toward his weapon, night vision swimming in his T-visor, he approached.

Calican swaggered out, expecting a simple exchange. He held Motto at gunpoint, the child gripped tightly in her arms as she pursed her lips. The woman was obstinate, proving thus far that she exceeded expectations in most fields. However, in this position, she was forced to follow orders. 

"Took you long enough to return," Calican taunted, gripping Peli close to him. "Thought you might have died on your way to Shand, but-" a soft breath parted his lips before a grin creased his mouth. "-your sniper struck true. Where is she? The little Mandalorian who killed Shand?"

Mando ground his teeth, raising his hands in mock defeat. "She's still out on the Dunes."

"Lies," Calican retorted. "You both are Guild traitors. Doesn't matter. I'll kill you and take her. I bet beneath that helmet is a striking woman. Might be fun to have a row with her, even if it's not willing."

These words elicited a blistering hot and white fury in his chest, his throat burning as he drew a sharp breath. _No one_ spoke about his apprentice in such a ruddy and disgusting manner. Toro's eyes had bespoke his silent attraction to her, but now, Mando's lip curled in disgust behind his helmet. He couldn't even form words in his rage, fingers curling beside him to form fists. Despite their strained relationship, Mando wouldn't allow for Nix to be referred to in such a despicable and derogatory manner. Yet, Peli's innocent head was held to gunpoint, along with the child.

Where was she?

A breath stole from the man's throat, a magenta bolt piercing his chest from the shadows. Nix prowled forward, her golden countenance flickering as Toro sunk to the ground, his fingers ever losing grip from Peli as his breath guttered. The petite woman paused over him, her head cocking, the lightness in her shoulder indicative of a mocking manner. 

Nix kicked him as he floundered, separating him from Peli, looming over him in an impressive manner as he stole his last few, ragged breaths. Drawing her vibro-blade, she pinched him against the wall, savoring the last few moments he had before she drove the knife into his throat, slicing it ear to ear in a grim smile. The young man slithered to the ground, bleeding limply on the ground as Nix stood over him, observing her work with disdain.

He caught his breath. This was the killer. The one who had lost her memories and had no grievances in ending the life of another. Turning around, her Y-shaped visor froze him, flicking the blade back into her vambrace. _'He deserved it,'_ was all she had to say as she left Toro's leaking body on the ground.

Morning came eventually, but only after the discord had been cleaned. Mando didn't know if he should have been disturbed by the gruesome act of Nix's kill, but he was gracious of her prowess. Had she not been a good shot, who knew what could have happened to Peli and the child. Still, there was a disturbance that unsettled his heart, recalling the way she carved the man like a piece of meat. He'd done the same to many before, but it was different watching.

The child was rattled, but thankful to be back around both Mandalorians who were consistent in their protection. Nix nuzzled him against her arm, polar in comparison to the cold blooded assassin she had shown just hours before. Lifting the child above her head, she elicited a twinkling laughter that seemed to disperse the discomfort amongst them. 

"You didn't get paid, did you?" Peli asked with a sigh, glancing toward where Nix and the child were flouncing.

"Here," he offered what had been left on Toro's body, a decent amount of credits, but he wasn't certain it was enough to cover their repairs.

In spite of this, Peli eagerly accepted the bag. "The droids will carry his body to Beggar's Canyon. Given the wounds, anyone who finds him will expect it was due to the Raiders," she hummed softly, glancing in the direction of the assassin. "Nice partner you got."

Glancing toward Nix, he considered Peli's words. The young woman had acted as his partner since Sorgan, rather than a student. He still owed her lessons on Mando'a, but doubted there was much else he could teach her. Nix had grown into her skin and her old talents - even if she couldn't remember her past. The dull reminder of her half-naked form danced across his own memory with sharp congruence. _Maker,_ he hoped it would disappear and yet, he wanted to see more at the same time. It was probably due to his own lack of physical connection that he had these shameful thoughts.

The armorer had known that the girl's ability was hidden beneath a suppressed memory. Whatever it was, be that manipulated genetics or prowess, Nix had exceeded his expectations. She might not be as stern or forward striking as himself, but she had her own niches, ones that complimented his own. Even Peli recognized the young woman's ability to move soundlessly and strike true. 

"Thanks," he finally admitted, turning back to the repaired _Razor Crest_ as he considered their next move. Even if they had survived the exchange on Tatooine, they needed credits to make future repairs. They were broke at this point, with barely enough credits to feed the three of them. Drawing a bitter sigh, he approached his two blissful companions, the child chattering excitedly to Nix.

His fingers pressed to her shoulder where she deserved pauldrons, gripping into her muscular flesh. Nix craned her neck, turning her visor toward him. He barely recalled what she looked like beneath, though he knew she had brown eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. It didn't matter. Appearances meant little. It was actions that bespoke more. "We need to move on," he told her.

Shuffling her hands aside to acknowledge him, she said, _'I know. Are you alright?'_

This was the first moment in a while that she'd bothered to ask. He knew she was still bitter from their time on Sorgan and he didn't blame her. He had been a poor teacher, let alone fellow Mandalorian. Nix had earned her place twice now and his own obstinance had been what divided them. "Yes, I am. Let's go."

Nix jerked her head in a nod, but there was a light lift to her shoulders, the same whimsical attitude settling about her. One that he thought made him smile, but often made him vexed. _'What's next?'_ she asked eagerly.

"Where the interstate leads us," he replied cryptically and to her disdain. Nix threw her hands up, resigning to a slight sag in her shoulders to prove her dismay at his words.

Drawing the bridge up, Mando climbed into the cockpit to start the _Razor Crest._ He could hear Nix shuffling below deck, managing the child as he navigated them off this forsaken desert planet. There was only one place he considered for a job, but he doubted that Nix would approve. A group of mercenaries who worked on the fringe of the Guild would be their best bet for work, but it would also dredge up relationships he'd estranged himself from. Hopefully, said people wouldn't be around to heckle him, but he was keenly aware that his luck wasn't so great.

After breaking the atmosphere, he set the destination for the space hangar bay he'd become quite familiar with in his 20s. Nix's boots keeled against the ladder as she joined him, observing the ship kick into hyperdrive as she came into the cockpit. The child was dozing once again, the ordeal on Tatooine forgotten as he slumped in her arms. Sitting in the chair, she cocked her helmet toward him, but didn't say anything.

"We need more credits if we want any hope of maintaining the _Crest_ ," he told her. 

_'A contact you know, then?'_

"Yes, a mercenary group. Fringe."

_'As long as it pays,'_ she retorted, drawing a smile from him.

"You did well on Tatooine," he admitted in spite of himself.

_'I did my job.'_

" _Well_ ," he insisted, hoping that she could catch the drift of his voice. "You've grown considerably since Nevarro." The words hung out to dry, Nix not deigning him with an answer as she traced a line across the child's long ears. "But," he sucked his teeth as he finally spoke. "There is more you could learn."

_'You don't say.'_

Her impudence wasn't appreciated, but he also wasn't surprised by it. He'd done little since before Sorgan and Nix had proven she could hold grudges by this point. "Mando'a," he persisted. "Even if you cannot speak it audibly, you should know how to understand and spell it," he continued, keeping his body turned and fully devoted to her. 

_'Then let's begin,'_ Nix challenged, leveling her helm, undaunted by the prospect of a new language. 

Over the hours, he outlined the basic understandings of the language. He hadn't expected her to pick up on it so quickly. The young woman only knew the common language as far as he knew, but perhaps there were underlying secrets whispering in her ears, translating languages she had known in her past life. She didn't know Mando'a, but she was keen on learning it and listening. There was something warming about teaching another, as much as he hated to admit it. Nix was clever and it'd taken him months to realize that now. Cara had seen the promise in the young woman where he'd been too absorbed with himself to see it.

A throbbing reminder haunted him, the fact that he'd told her she was barely Mandalorian during his stress in protecting Omera’s village. Now, sitting in the copilot chair, he could only see a Mandalorian gazing back at him with haughty persistence. Nix was dedicated to the Creed and he'd been premature in his assumption, if not unnecessarily callous. Part of him wished that she had more beskar to protect her small frame from the future missions, but knew that a day would come when she might be awarded with her armor. It was easy to forget that Nix hadn't always been like this given the time he'd been beside her.

It took nearly two weeks before they reached the station hangar that he had been aiming for. Settled right where he remembered, he briefly alerted Nix on their position there. This was business and these were mercenaries. Nix would defer her sign language amongst the untrustworthy mercenaries, but he also knew that sometimes the young woman couldn't help herself from making snide remarks.

Landing in the hangar, Nix dropped below confidently, her boots clinking against the steel as he finished settling the _Razor Crest_ into the dock. His very essence hummed in familiarity, but his heart wasn't in it. This was only the last resort. He wouldn't have returned for any other reason aside from that.

Turning the ship's engines off, he joined Nix down below as she checked her weapons, reloading her blaster before cocking a head toward him. The questioning manner, he knew, was to gauge his disposition on this mission. If he were more reserved, Nix would hold back on her attitude. However, there was a pep in her step, maybe indicating that she'd be belligerent despite his own emotions toward the mission.

Opening the dock, they left the child sleeping in his pram, to greet the familiar Ranzar Malk. His beard had greyed considerably over the past few years, long and wiry, lacking the dark obsidian that Mando remembered. 

"Mando!" the man lifted his arms in excitement, grinning widely as the two greeted him. "And what's this? Another Mandalorian? Something happen that I'm not aware of?" he gave a sly glance, as if Mando had somehow gotten married in his years away. It was rather annoying at this point, given that it was the second time this had happened.

Nix barely acknowledged the man, her head scanning the bay.

"I'm surprised you reached out to me. Heard you had a bit of trouble with the Guild, but you're always welcome here," Malk admitted, giving a friendly gesture for the pair to follow him down and out. "Who's this here? Don't recall you working with another Mandalorian before this."

Manda wouldn't be a proper name and at this point, referring to Nix as his apprentice felt wrong. "Nix," he answered shortly, her name resounding in the back of his throat as he said it. Her visor snapped to him, observing that he'd referred to her by her name instead of her rank.

"Welcome Nix," Malk greeted, poising a greasy smile toward her. "Mando must have filled you in about our work here. He used to be a regular amongst our ranks... Though one of our associates ran afoul of some competitors recently, so you might expect that I'm rather pleased to see two Mandalorians here."

Nix's shoulders heaved in a silent sigh. 

Following Malk deeper into his space station, they listened intently. "It's a 5 person job and we need your ship, Mando. Honestly, your ship is the only reason I agreed to have you back here, given the fiasco you pulled last time."

He pursed his lips, not liking the direction this was going in. His ship? "What's the job?" he asked disdainfully.

Ignoring his question, Malk continued blissfully toward a bald human who was fiddling with his weapons. "This is Migs Mayfeld, one of my hired guns since your departure," the man explained, introducing the stranger. "Mayfeld, this is Mando, who brought some reputation to our station before leaving. The golden one is Nix, a newer partner."

"What'd you get out of your work here, Mando?" Mayfeld asked, his voice erring on arrogance as he leveled a haughty glance between both Mandalorians. His gaze dismissed the smaller Nix, settling only on Mando.

"He got target practice out of it," Ran retorted for him.

"It was a long time ago," Mando admitted quietly.

"Look, Mayfeld is in charge of this mission. He was a stormtrooper sharpshooter," Ran picked up after a bout of silence.

_'Stormtrooper? Didn't think they had sharpshooters. What, do they hit the target 1/3 times when they're a sharpshooter?'_ Nix snicked, drawing a smile to his lips as the others didn't recognize her wit.

"I wasn't a stormtrooper," Mayfeld hissed. "Is this the ship we'll be using? Barely more than a Canto Bight slot machine."

Mando ignored him, watching as Nix leaned against the ship in her arrogance, clearly displaying the annoyance that he was feeling being amongst the mercenaries once again. 

"Our team will also include Burg, Zero, and Xi'an," Mayfeld continued, still observing the ship, other teammates looming into his field of vision. The Devaronian wasn't much of an afterthought, nor was the droid, it was the Twi'lek that brought a sharp hiss to his mouth, watching as her purple countenance loomed into view.

Nix stood up straight, watching warily as Xi'an swaggered forward, a smiling curling up against her mouth. Twirling a vibro-blade between her fingers, she gave him a look that was both scathing and sensual, a dull throb reminding him of his stupidity in his 20s. "Why shouldn't I kill you right where I stand, Mando?" she inquired lightly.

Nix's shoulders tensed, her fingers brushing her blaster at these words. But the others were watching, keeping their own eyes peeled for how the Mandalorians might react.

Shoving down his own embarrassment from their scorned relationship, Mando leveled a glare at the Twi'lek. Remembering the feel of her skin, as if it had been yesterday, he almost recoiled at her approach. Standing sternly, he did not give her an answer.

"You're shinier than before," Xi'an purred, grinning slightly as she tossed a glance back at Nix. "Seems you have a new flame though. Had to be Mandalorian, didn't she?"

_'I'll kill her if you want,'_ Nix countered lightly, nonplussed by the constant assumption that they were together.

He shook his head. _They needed this job._

Xi'an observed the shake of his head, grin widening as she turned to glance back at Nix, sauntering up to her, hips swaying. Bringing the dagger up, she loomed over the petite Mandalorian. "Mando only likes pretty women. I can only _imagine_ the face hiding beneath this helmet-" she drew the flat of the blade beneath Nix's helm, creating a scraping sound. Mando tensed, fingers flexed tersely beside his blaster as the Twi'lek taunted Nix. Spinning around, the purple Twi'lek danced away spitefully.

Nix's visor tilted toward him and she made a quick movement. _'Old flame?'_ she managed.

_'Very old,'_ he admitted tartly, chagrin filling him from how much he'd been dismayed by Xi'an bothering her. 

_'Alright, old man.'_

He sucked his teeth, just as the Devaronian lumbered forward, glancing down toward him and sneering, "He's so tiny."

They were pawing over his ship. Specifically the droid, Zero, which had little problem in making itself comfortable. Drawing a stifled breath, he made an attempt to be half as bothered, but the _Razor Crest_ had already become under infiltration with the addition of Nix and the child. Only, Nix kept to her tiny hammock corner, while the others were making themselves disconcertingly comfortable. 

"The package is being moved to a fortified transport ship," Mayfeld elaborated. "There is a limited window to infiltrate the ship and recover the prisoner before the ship jumps into hyperspace."

"That's a New Republic Correctional Transport we're raiding. Not just any ship," Mando frowned, looking at the hologram that the ex-Imperial was displaying. "Your 'friend' was arrested."

"Eh, a job is a job Mando. Pays all the same," Ran broke in.

"You didn't mention we would be going toe to toe with the Republic."

"What, afraid of the Republic, Mando?" Xi'an purred, continuing to twirl her knife aimlessly in her hand. "The ship is run by droids."

_'That's all we need. Imps_ and _the New Republic on our tails,'_ Nix remarked wryly, staring at the plan with scorn.

"This one talks less than you, Mando," Xi'an observed the exchange curiously, but didn't understand. "What's the matter darling, loth-cat got your tongue?"

_'You have... interesting taste in women,'_ Nix signed quickly before turning away from Xi'an. Maker, that's all he needed her thinking. From Omera to Xi'an?

The Twi'lek frowned, disliking being ignored. Licking her teeth, she whirled away, Nix climbing onto her hammock to twiddle with her blaster, watching their newest crew members warily. Noticing that he was looking on, the young woman rolled her shoulders and turned her palms over to give an emphatic shrug.

"This ship has leaking hyperlinks, intermittent navigation, and the hyperdrive is only operating at 67.3% efficiency. Why are we not utilizing one of the newer ships?" Zero's terse, mechanical voice broke the milling about.

"The _Razor Crest_ is off both Imperial and New Republic grids. It's a ghost," Ran explained shortly. 

"We also need a ship that can jam New Republic codes," Mayfeld added.

Great. That was definitely going to flag his ship to the New Republic. Clenching his teeth, he blinked a few times as he hoped this was going to be an easy in and out job so that he could be on his way after. 

"We're going to board the ship through the blindspot," Mayfeld continued.

"That's a very narrow window to make. It won't be possible," he countered, aware that if he was flying the ship that he wouldn't have the chance to leave the cockpit and he didn't feel good about sending Nix in there with the lot of them.

"That's why Zero will pilot," Mayfeld retorted lightly, as if it weren't a big deal.

_'A droid piloting the ship?'_ Nix glanced up just long enough to catch his eye. He knew the brat was probably grinning beneath her helmet at the idea and how much it irked him.

"I need you on the trigger, Mando. As much as your new friend seems capable, I know your work," Ran entreated.

"How can we trust the droid to pilot?" Mando asked shortly.

"I am quicker and smarter than organics," Zero weighed in from the cockpit, having overheard the conversation.

Didn't make him feel much better. "How can I trust the droid?"

"You don't trust anyone," Ran countered.

_'Aw, you don't trust me?'_ Nix dogged from her corner.

Remaining silent, he glanced slightly toward the bunk where he'd hidden the child. This way, by no means, ideal. Their entire situation was a mess, but Ran would pay well. He hadn't left this space station behind because it didn't pay. There were other reasons aside from Xi'an's clinginess and inclination to try and remove his helmet.

The ship puttered off, leaving behind the station in favor of their mission. Within the cargo hold, there was a tense blanket smothering them all. Burg paced the length of the room, each foot fall making the ship shudder slightly. 

"Sit down, you big oaf," Xi'an snarled, hissing when the Devaronian sent her knife flying from her hand.

_'Well, this is fun,'_ Nix commented.

"Does she not talk?" Mayfeld asked, having watched her sign.

"She talks, but not verbally," Mando grumbled.

"Mute then. Or... Tusken Raider?" Mayfeld shot a taunting smile in her direction.

Rather than be instigated, she knocked her wrists together and tilted her head down obnoxiously after signing, ' _Caught me red handed.'_

"What'd she say?" Mayfeld asked him.

Mando didn't offer an answer, watching as Nix cocked her head in annoyance. "Learn Tusken and maybe you'll know." The young woman nodded her golden helmet toward him before hopping down from her perch.

Turning, he saw that Burg had opened the gun cabinet. Leave it to the mercenaries not to know to keep their hands and mouths to themselves. 

"What are you doing?" he demanded tersely.

Burg glowered, still holding the cabinet open. 

"Hey now!" Mayfeld broke in anxiously. "Look, you're not going to see us ever again after this. You and your partner need to relax."

_'Relax? I'm nothing but relaxed. Get this goliath out of our shit!'_ Nix snapped irritably, despite not being understood, reflecting his own disposition toward their situation. Even if the _Razor Crest_ was his, by this point it had been Nix's home too, though she hadn't been half as nosy as the mercenaries over the months as they were in 10 minutes.

"Why do we need the Mandalorians?" Burg asked hotly. 

"They're the best warriors in the galaxy," Mayfeld admitted easily.

"Why are they all dead then?"

The storage shed filled with laughter to the bitterness of both Mandalorians. 

"You flew with Mandalorians, didn't you Xi'an?" Mayfeld turned his grin over to the Twi'lek.

"Mm," she agreed with a nod. "Not the gold one, but I did with him. Tell them about the job on Alzoc III."

He stifled his breath, not keen on reliving those darker years. He wasn't proud of what had happened or who had been back then. "I did what I had to."

"Oh no, you liked it," Xi'an's smile could have curdled blood.

"What do either of you look like under your helmets? The woman's Tusken. Does that make you Gungan? Never seen a Tusken without their mask on..." Mayfeld speculated.

_'I'm not actually Tusken you idiot.'_

Burg turned toward Nix, dwarfing her like a giant to an ant. She took a step back, realizing what the male's intention was. He snatched at her, grabbing Nix by the scruff of her fur collar before reaching for her helmet. Mando jumped on him, pinning his arms around the Devaronian's throat, jerking back as hard as he could, but Burg barely seemed deterred as he hung off of his back.

Dropping Nix, Burg rammed Mando against the wall, driving all air from his lungs and smashing into the controls for the bunk. Groaning slightly, his arms remained around Burg's neck, gasps coming from Xi'an and Mayfeld as the child was revealed.

"What's that?" Mayfeld took a step forward, but was intercepted by Nix who had drawn her blaster. "Woah, woah! Is that your kid or something?"

Xi'an trotted forward, licking her teeth. "Didn't take you for much of a family man, but it makes more sense now," her eyes slid between Nix, the child, and then settled on him. Maker, why was it always the assumption that the two of them were together?

"It's a pet," he groused, releasing Burg, glaring in his direction as if to silently tell him to make another attempt at removing Nix's helmet. 

"Pet? You sure he doesn't have big green ears under that helmet, Xi'an?"

"No, he's human," Xi'an admitted finally. She hadn't seen his face, but they'd been close enough that she knew some of him. "Looks like the other is too - her braid is hair... or at least she's near-human."

_'More like a freakish mod podge of genetics, but thank you for noticing. Didn't take you for the thinker of the group,'_ Nix retorted to no one in particular, still remaining in front of the child.

"The _Razor Crest_ is exiting hyperspace," Zero announced.

Rather than a simple stop, the entire craft jerked, sending the crew scattering across the shed floor. Mando turned, watching as Nix grabbed the child before he could be sent flying. His own hands flew out, caging the young woman before she was tossed haphazardously. Her beskar heartplate collided hard with the inside of his elbow, making him wince, but she didn't fall - only landing on him as he smacked against the floor. The child began crying in her arms as she stirred, still a bit jarred.

"Kriffing droid didn't give us a countdown!" Xi'an groused bitterly as she climbed back to her feet. 

"The _Razor Crest_ is currently scrambling the Republic's signal. It's astonishing that this ship survived the Empire without being impounded," Zero remarked coolly.

Breath parting his lips, Nix pulled herself to her feet, putting the child back on the cot, closing the door. Getting back up, he turned toward the hatch . Opening it, he revealed the small drop that they had before a ladder. In and out. He didn't want to be here longer than necessary and the additional crew was grinding his patience too thin.

Everyone lined up, Mayfeld taking point, glancing down a couple of times before dropping and indicating that it was safe for the rest to follow. Nix hopped down before him, coming up behind the mercenaries as Mayfeld spoke over the comlink with Zero. "Hack into the control room and disable the surveillance system."

After throwing a glance back at him, Mayfeld continued, "Avoid contact with the security droids." These words were intended for everyone, not just him, but Mayfeld's eyes lingered as if Mando would sabotage the mission because of his hatred for droids.

"I have hacked into the surveillance system and will serve as your eyes," Zero revealed over the link.

They patrolled forward, passing the clinically white and clean cells of prisoners who were being kept on the ship. Eyes leered toward them, some of the habitants making rude gestures and calls. Nix gave him a quick sign, _'Thanks.'_

Turning around a corner, a small black droid pittered out, a repair mech. It paused, acknowledging the group, and undoubtedly was communicating back to the rest of the system. Rather than stop it, Burg began taunting it, drawing his blaster slowly before Mayfeld had the chance to stop him, the alien destroying it in a rain of sparks. 

_'Flank,'_ he signaled to Nix, who gave a brisk nod and vanished around another corner, drawing her bow.

He went down the opposite corridor. These ships were all set up the same, hallways interlocking and connecting. It would seem like a repetitive labyrinth to some, but it was easy to understand the layout if you weren't an idiot and knew your bearings. Blaster shots rang in the distance from where the pair had stepped away from, Mayfeld's embittered voice ringing with clarity, "The Mandalorians abandoned us!"

Pinching the New Republic security droids as they opened fire on the rest of the party, he caught the glint of Nix's golden helm as he strafed forward. She loosed her bolt, taking the first droid through the head before sprinting forward. The others turned toward her, giving him his opportunity to attack without being noticed. Using his vibro-blade, he sliced the foot off one droid, sending it tumbling forward as it lost its support. Turning around, he fired his blaster into the back of the head of the other. 

Nix slid against the floor, darting beneath the incoming fire of the last droid, utilizing her small size to her advantage as she spurned by it, hooking her bow up and around its arm, jerking it to the floor with a crash. She drew her pistol from her holster and blasted the droid's head. Around them, the cheers of the onlooking prisoners was audible, but his own eyes remained on Nix as her chest heaved with slight effort, removing her bow from where she'd hooked it.

Mayfeld sauntered his, his brows pressed together, and a sneer forming on his lips as he glared between them. "Make sure you clean up your mess."

_'You're welcome,'_ Nix replied haughtily, mocking him with a tilt of her head.

"Look at you two," Xi'an purred as they continued on their path to the control room. "Like two arrows in a quiver."

Bursting into the control room, they were all taken aback by the presence of a New Republic soldier. He leveled his blaster nervously, his voice quaking as he spoke. "In the name of the New Republic, I demand that you lay down your arms."

"You said that there weren't any humans on this ship," Mando snapped irritably, watching as the others leered at the officer.

Mayfeld was already fumbling with the controls to try and find where their target was. 

"You put it down. Ain't going nowhere with us here," Burg retorted.

"No!" the officer reached into his jacket and pulled out a tracking beacon. "This will alert New Republic reinforcements."

Nix took a step forward, easing him gently with her hands. _'Please, we won't harm you,'_ she entreated.

The officer stared. _He understood._ His fingers shook, but there was something severely less intimidating about the golden beskar of Nix that kept him assured of her words. 

"You _knew_ there'd be an officer on this ship," Xi'an snarled, glowering at Mayfeld.

The ex-Imperial rolled his shoulders in nonchalance. "Doesn't matter. We're here for a job regardless."

"Doesn't matter?!" Xi'an's voice rose hysterically.

' _We are here to free one prisoner. There is no need for anyone to get hurt,'_ Nix continued. 

"What's your name?" Mando pressed gently.

"D-Davan," he stammered, glancing away from Nix and to him.

"As she told you, we're not here to hurt you. Just let us continue and we'll leave in peace."

"No way. Moment we look away he's pressing that button," Mayfeld snapped.

_'Give me the beacon. We will tie you up and the droids will eventually find you,'_ Nix entreated, opening her palm for the tracker.

"Killing him is not the same as the droids. He's an officer for the New Republic. We will bring down their firepower if we harm him," Mando bit back at Mayfeld, challenging the authority of the man. 

The situation in the room didn't shift, instead it was becoming a standoff. Mando turned his blaster on Mayfeld, refusing to let them kill the officer. He was doing his job and there was no reason to end his life when they could just apprehend him or throw him in an empty cell. Killing him would put a warrant on all their heads. 

"Get that blaster out of my face!" Mayfeld demanded, pointing his own at Nix.

Nix's hand was still outstretched, but the fingers of her free hand grazed beneath her wrist, where her vibro-blade was tucked. Burg pointed his blaster at the back of Mando's head. 

With an annoyed sigh, Xi'an moved and dexterously flicked her wrist. The blade sailed through the air, striking home before any of them could react. Nix turned sharply, shoving Xi'an to the floor without an afterthought. _'You fucking idiot!'_

The tracking beacon was pinging on the floor now. 

"T-twenty minutes... and they'll be here," the officer hissed, Nix kneeling down beside him to assess the damage. Her hand came away bloody and she glanced up at Mando, shaking her head. 

"We only need five," Xi'an retorted, having smiled after being pushed by Nix. 

A breath stuttered in the back of the officer's throat as he died, a pool of blood collecting against the cold steel floor. Nix remained there silently, though the others had already started running for the next destination. He grabbed her arm, tugging her away from the soldier, before following after the rest of the group as Burg hurled a security droid into another one, causing them to combust and rain flames.

He could tell his partner was upset. Hell, he wasn't in much better of a mood, but she'd not done a mission like this before. Until this point, the people on the receiving line of death had deserved it. There was no honor in what had just been done to that soldier. 

Sputtering around to their destination cell, Zero unlocked it remotely, warning that they only had 15 minutes until the New Republic arrived. Stepping out of the cell was a familiar countenance that he should have expected. Qin, a tall and formidable purple Twi'lek, grinned. 

"Ah," Qin mused, glancing from Mando and then down at Nix. "Looks like a lot has happened since you left me behind."

Burg came up behind the Mandalorians, thrusting them into the empty cell. It shut with a hiss behind them, the siblings embracing as the others laughed. 

"Looks like you're right where you deserve to be Mando," Xi'an told him whimsically. "Although, we were nice enough to leave you with the other Mando - you know to pass the time before you're separated-" she winked and danced away, abandoning the both of them to the cell.

Removing his blaster, he shot it at the door, the round pinging around the cell, smacking Nix in the chest, knocking her to the floor. Sitting up slightly, she shook her head at him. _'Can you not?'_

He rounded back to the front of the cell, scanning the hallway as another set of droids passed by. Reaching his arm out, he engaged his grappling hook, jerking the droid toward him and up against the door. A struggle ensued as the droid fired off shots, which bounced around in the room, but he was able to wrap the cord around its neck and sever the head before grabbing its arm to utilize it to unlock the door.

Nix hissed behind him, clutching her arm where she'd been grazed by a shot. _'I'll live,'_ she told him before he could ask.

"Stop the ship from leaving. I'll deal with the others," Mando instructed as the door opened.


	9. Nix's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finishing the mission with Malk's mercenaries, they are faced with the opportunity to finally rid themselves of the Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feels are finally beginning. I didn't want to rush anything! Although Nix certainly is pining now.

Kriffing backstabbers. Wasn't much of a surprise, but they should have seen it coming sooner. Part of her wished she could 'deal' with them alongside Mando, but stopping the  _ Razor Crest  _ from abandoning them was a much more pressing matter. Running down the hallways, she recalled the series of twists and turns they'd made when exiting the ship. Doors hissed and she knew that Mando was behind closing down some of the paths. Considering which way she'd go, she released her grazed arm to pull out her bow. It hurt like bloody hell, but it was only superficial. Pauldrons might've been nice to block a shot like that.

Coming around a corner, she saw the ladder, though no one else had reached it yet with Mando prowling the ship like a vindictive wraith. Sliding behind the ladder, she waited, aware that eventually people would make their way there. Zero hadn't departed, which meant that the Twi'lek prisoner had yet to make it there. 

Nix waited for a few minutes before spotting the massive male Twi'lek lumbering forward alone and with a slimy grin. His eyes were bright on the prize, excited as his prospect of freedom was right within reach. She drew the bowstring taut and stepped in front of the ladder, the smiling falling right off of his face.

"Zero did say the Mandalorian _ s _ escaped," the alien grumbled. "You were hired for a job. Killing me won't get you paid."

Nix leered at him through her helmet. 

"Well? Leave the others, you'll get paid more," he pressed urgently. "Unless you're gonna wait for your boyfriend. Mandalorians don't leave each other behind, do they?"

"No, they don't," Mando materialized behind the Twi'lek, thrusting cuffs to the Twi'lek. "Put these on, let's go."

Dropping her bow, she felt a rush of relief in her stomach. They needed to leave, but she didn't think she could have if it came down to the wire. Even if they got on each other's nerves, there was a mutual, unspoken alliance between them. Darting up the ladder as Mando apprehended the Twi'lek, she saw Zero by the bunk with a blaster in hand.

Her wrist moved quickly, the grappling hook flying and encircling the droid's throat. Jerking him down to the floor ailed her shoulder, but the adrenaline overcame it. She had nothing against droids, but she  _ did  _ hate droids with an inclination toward hurting the child. Drawing her blaster and moving forward, she blew Zero's head off as she came to stand over him. Glancing up, she saw the trembling child hiding in his hammock, reaching imploringly toward her.

Releasing her grappling hook, she picked him up and smoothed a hand over his head. Mando and the prisoner boarded, the Twi'lek taking a seat toward where the dock dropped, his hands bound. Flying up to the cockpit, he barely spared her a glance, as he worked on getting them as far away as possible from the station. 

Nix retrieved a can of bacta-spray for her shoulder, climbing up into the cockpit to check on Mando. He sat comfortably in his pilot seat and did not give her a look as she pushed open her ripped sleeve. A shuddering breath drew her attention, glancing back up at Mando as she noticed the edge of his beskar was tinged darkly. She put the child on the copilot seat and stood up. 

_ 'You're hurt,' _ she realized, moving into his peripheral to sign at him. 

"It's fine. We need to-" he snapped his jaw shut as she poked at his open wound, drawing by bloody fingers. 

_ 'Let me look at it,'  _ she entreated.

"You're hurt too."

_ 'Not as badly as this looks,'  _ Nix admitted. ' _ Keep flying, I can help heal your wounds while you do so.' _

"Fine," he grumbled, his voice tart through his vocoder. 

Nix looked at the injury, which appeared to have been made by one of Xi'an's knives. She'd gotten him right between where his chestplate met his pauldrons, right against the side of his pec. Peeling back the torn fabric, she picked up the can of bacta-spray. She blotted away the blood first, dismayed by the amount coming out. He'd been good. Heart fluttering in her ears, she pushed harder against his wound, causing him to stifle a shout.

"Careful!" he growled, jerking the ship as she applied pressure.

_ 'The heartplate needs to come off. This looks bad. Can you put the ship on autopilot?' _

"In a minute," he relented, the pain palpable in his strained tone.

Nix kept the pressure applied to his wound until he was able to coast the ship. Turning toward her, he worked the strap of his heartplate with his uninjured side. Using her own free hand, she undid the strap over the wound. The beskar slid to the floor with a soft, but melodic clang, and Nix grabbed for the front of his padded shirt without thinking. 

Mando snapped up, catching her hand. She gave him an insistent nod, unable to speak with both of her hands caught up.

Grumbling, he let her hand go, allowing her to help peel off the top of his shirt to actually get a clean look at the cut. His skin was a golden tan, sweat collecting against his chest, mingled with blood from the tensing slice against the side of his pec. Had Nix been worried about anything other than him bleeding out, she might have thought he had a rather impressive physique and the fact he  _ wasn't  _ as old as she teased him for. Instead, she adjusted her hand, continuing the pressure as she mopped up the blood, accepting the bacta-spray from the child who held it to her. A necklace on a leather string glinted slightly, some sort of creature's head. 

Lifting her fingers, she began to spray the wound directly, hearing Mando hiss beneath his helmet. She used the entire can, wiping away more of the blood as it began to do its work. He jerked at his shirt, pulling his back over his chest as she held a bundle of bloody rags. She did manage to remark, _ 'Calm down.' _

His fingers tightened back on the steering wheel. "I am calm."

_ 'Right,'  _ she snipped.  _ 'Next time I'll let you bleed all over your seat until you pass out and crash us.' _

"The beskar was applying enough pressure to the wound. I could have waited."

_ 'I don't mind helping you,' _ she said before peeling off her dirty gloves.  _ 'Your lack of care for your own wellbeing is rather alarming.' _

"I've managed on my own for years before the two of you. I know my own body."

_ 'Mm, and now I know a little too,' _ she taunted, deciding not to give him the satisfaction of continuing to be pouty because she had to take a look at his wound. Did he think she didn't care for him? Even if she had been pissed for weeks, she didn't  _ like  _ seeing him suffer. 

Mando cocked his head toward her, in the same manner he did when she annoyed him. There was no reply to her flirtatious jab, though she'd only done it to get under his skin because he was being a brat. Mando clearly thought of her like a little sister at this point.

Returning back to the storage shed, she disposed of the contaminated cloth and cleaned her own wound. Qin, as she learned the prisoner's name was, just watched on intently as there wasn't much else to do. The last can of bacta-spray had been used on Mando's injury, so she'd have to deal with cauterizing her own. Hurt like a bastard, but better than letting it heal slowly on its own.

"Do you even feel pain?" Qin asked, watching her finish up mending her wound.

Nix didn't bother to answer him.

"So, you're new," Qin continued to talk to her. "You and Mando a thing? Makes sense, you're Mandalorian, so-" he rolled his neck and then stared at her. "Xi'an told me that he'd always wear his helmet. Even when they were sleeping together. Is it the same between Mandalorians? Or is there an exception at that point?"

Nix rolled her eyes, sanitizing the cauterizer, before she put it away. Given that she couldn't communicate with most people, she couldn't just tell them that she and Mando were, in fact,  _ not a thing.  _ Usually Mando handled that quickly enough, but since he was flying the ship, he wasn't there to tell Qin that they weren't together. 

"Mando has a thing for prettier women. I bet beneath that helm, you're more of a looker than my sister. Might you enlighten me?"

She climbed up onto her hammock and turned her back to him.

"No? Wow, you're even quieter than he is. Didn't really think that was possible," Qin snorted.

He kept pestering her, seemingly so bored that talking to her, despite her silence, was better than just staring at the wall. She had been trying to get a little sleep before they arrived back at the space station, but instead ground her teeth as Qin continued to ask about her relationship with Mando and if he was good in bed. Or what she saw in him aside from being Mandalorian. 

Eventually, she did fall asleep despite him not leaving her alone. The ship landed, waking her, but Mando waved her off. "I'll handle it," he had put his beskar back on and lowered the dock.

Only a few minutes passed before the dock closed again and Mando padded up the ladder. Letting out a wistful sigh, Nix settled back into her sleep just as the ship jerked and she was sent flying from her bed. She landed with a clang, air whooshing out of her mouth. She might have groaned if she could. Grumbling silently, she sat up, picking herself up to her feet, before heading up to the cockpit. 

The child was watching with big eyes as the station imploded, the Republic zooming toward it. Realization dawned on her. Mando had planted the tracking beacon on Qin. Staring at him, she was astonished by his cleverness yet again, thinking back to the officer who hadn't deserved being killed. At least this was retribution enough for the mercenary bastards.

_ 'What did you end up doing with the rest of them?'  _ she asked.

"Returned the favor by putting them in a cell," Mando answered.

_ 'Too nice,'  _ she shrugged.  _ 'Did we get paid?' _

"Yup."

Silence hung over them, the slight bit of tension over the injury situation still glaringly clear. Deciding it best to let him brood on his own, Nix turned to go back below deck. A hand grabbed hers, grazing her still gloveless palm, eliciting a shiver down her spine. Craning her head back, she noticed that it was Mando. Puzzled, she turned her head imploringly.

"Thank you," he told her. 

_ 'Ok?' _

"You were right, I haven't been looking after myself as much," he finally conceded. What? This was the same Mando she'd been on the  _ Razor Crest _ for months with? No way. He was being too earnest,  _ too  _ tender. Maybe he'd lost too much blood. "And you shouldn't have to pick up my slack."

Tugging her hand away, she turned toward him.  _ 'It's not much slack. Really, it's fine.' _ This was weird. Her cheeks burned beneath her helmet, thrusting her back to their day on Nevarro when he had been training her. Those thoughts had been shoved down, especially given how things on Sorgan happened. Again, she thought little of it or tried to. 

"I'm your mentor," he started sternly.

_ Ah, there we go. That's more like it,  _ she thought, rolling her shoulders lazily.  _ 'Less and less that everyday, it seems. When are you going to teach me more Mando'a?' _

"Soon," he insisted, ruffled by her nonchalance. "But... you're right. We're becoming partners more than teacher and apprentice."

_ 'Just telling you how it feels. I mean, if you'd prefer I can pretend to be less capable so that you get some satisfaction out of training me,'  _ Nix retorted.

"Maker, do you take anything seriously?"

_ 'Only when it matters,' _ she clucked.  _ 'Why? Didn't take you for the type to have a heart to heart.' _

"I'm not," he groused. "But... I have a feeling we're going to be together for a long time. After Sorgan..."

_ 'It's fine,' _ she insisted, hoping they weren't going to touch that nerve again.  _ 'You already apologized.' _

"You were right. I apologized out of convenience, because we were going to be stuck on the  _ Crest  _ together. Now..." he drew a sharp, annoyed breath. 

_ 'Don't reopen your wound by thinking too hard. It's fine, Mando. I'm not the gushy type who needs reassurance constantly.' _

"You know how to hold a grudge."

_ 'You treated me like a child. I'm not. As you clearly saw after.' _ Again, that situation didn't bother her. It had been an accident and she'd noticed how it made him squirm in the following days.  _ 'Is that what this is about?' _ she questioned. _ 'Mando, are you still embarrassed over that?' _

He tilted his head up, pinning her with a glare. "I'm not embarrassed."

_ 'Then what is it? Lose a bit too much blood?' _

"Maybe," he leaned back in his seat, fingers tightening around the rests. 

_ 'Perhaps, I'm a bit naive still, but I don't think you've gotten over that,'  _ she had meant for it to be a joke, to break the awkward spell that had fallen over the cabin.

"You're not naive," his voice was quiet.

Swallowing hard, she wondered what he meant by that.  _ 'I'm going to use the 'fresher. If you're going to come down, signal properly this time, alright?' _

He nodded.

Dropping down below, she expelled a pent up breath, a little taken aback that she had been holding it. There had been something different about Mando in that moment, a side that she hadn't seen before. Perhaps she was thinking too much. Starting the shower, she puzzled about it longer. Sure, she found him attractive, she'd admitted this to herself before. However, given their positions, she'd deferred these thoughts, especially after Sorgan. They were getting on better and he no longer called her 'kid'. Her heart had also stuttered when she realized he had been hurt. It was only natural that she was worried about her partner, wasn't it?

Not much to dwell on there. They worked together, especially since she was still learning about Mandalorian culture and had to earn the rest of her beskar. Then, she expected they'd go their separate ways once they decided what to do with the child. Mando had been grouchy about having to share his space, so he was probably eager to get her out of his hair, but had been guilted into taking her beneath his wing.

_ Maker, I'm not pining am I? Ugh, it's been too long and my brain is a little addled from that mission,  _ she theorized, sighing to herself. Mando might have been nice a moment ago, for like... the first time ever, but she was reading into it too much. 

A shame Toro Calican had proven to be an arrogant prick or she might have taken advantage of his attention. Now, her fingers ran down her own body as she washed, breath steaming, eyes closed as the water streamed down her face. It didn't matter who, but the images behind her eyes were not that of Toro. Not after she'd given him a second smile. Rather, she thought of Mando, the strong grooves of his chest, even when she had been trying to help keep him from bleeding out. The dark, golden tan, curls of dark hair on a sweat coated chest.

Nix smashed her head against the edge of the shower, hating herself in this moment and the fact that she was thinking of the buckethead despite how push and pull their relationship had been until now. Catching a short breath, her fingers had moved along her hips, quavering tentatively toward the warmth between her legs. It'd never happen, so maybe just enjoying her imagination in the shower would be enough until she found another guy to mess around with. Until this point, she'd been rather obsessed with her own appearance and capabilities in battle, but it had all returned with astonishing familiarity. Now that she had time to think about other things, sometimes her mind did wander, especially with how often people assumed they were together due to both being Mandalorian.

If he weren't so cold, maybe... She gasped as her fingers grazed over her mound, desperately wishing for satisfaction. Biting her lip, Nix moved her hand down and began to wear away her lust. Her heart hammered, lashes fluttering, scrunching shut as she tried to think of  _ anyone  _ but Mando and instead was absolutely dismayed when that was all that made her feign a moan. Thankfully, as loud as she could breath, no noise aside from those breaths would escape her lips.  _ Maker, imagine if he caught me,  _ the idea of that thought made her heart race, half-hoping that he might as she slid her fingers up into herself.

Thumb remaining against her clit, she bit her lip, trying to hold her breath as she climbed higher, legs quaking slightly. Kriff this was awful, but she hadn't fucked in - what? - 50+ years? Eventually, it was going to catch up with her. Now it took the form of her partner, one who liked sweet widows with dark hair. Nix wasn't halfway as sweet or responsible as Omera had been, nor did she have children of her own. Mando liked women like that, pretty, gentle, but strong. Nix was just a twerp. 

Resentment billowed in her heart, just as her fingers continued to draw circles. A shudder went down her spine and while it felt blissful, it also felt shameful. Cheeks burning like the suns of Tatooine, Nix removed her slick fingers, panting against the shower. What kind of deviant dreamed of fucking someone who was supposed to be their mentor? 

Exiting the refresher, she dressed in boots, trousers, and undershirt before braiding her hair and replacing her helmet. Rolling her shoulders, the tension she once felt evaporated. Rather than lay down for another nap, she went back up to the cockpit to check on the kid and Mando. Thankful that her helmet hid her hot, flustered face as she glanced in his direction, remembering what she’d just done...

"Watch this," he instructed as she approached, not sparing a glance back at her. 

The familiar countenance of Greef Karga flickered onto the holographic projector. Her fingers brushed her shoulder subconsciously, where she'd been hit by his blaster before leaving Nevarro. Damn, it felt like forever ago. How was he alive? Didn't matter, he was entreating them now, asking for their return to Nevarro to overthrow the Imperial remnants who had taken over his town. A wry smile twisted her lips. 

_ 'Serves him right,' _ she shrugged.

"We should go," he turned toward her, clearly looking for her input.

_ 'Whatever your decision is, you know I will follow you,' _ she retorted, wondering why he was deferring to her. Until this point, he'd called the shots and she'd just been a reliable soldier.

"What do you make of it?"

_ 'Given our last time there? Don't trust Karga.' _

"Mm, I thought as much, but if we have the chance of stopping the Imps from following the kid..."

_ 'Big risk.' _

"Even if I didn't know better, I'd say you sound hesitant," he teased in his cool, even voice.

She scowled beneath her helmet.  _ 'You asked for my opinion.'  _ Maybe she had a good sense of humor, but she wasn’t an idiot. They were most likely walking into a trap. 

"I wasn't thinking of just the two of us," Mando said lightly. "We'd go back to Sorgan, see about Dune... Maybe go back to Arvala-7 to see if Kuiil will watch the child. Bringing him to the fight is not ideal."

_ 'I'd be down to have Cara with us. We could use some muscle.' _

She could almost _feel_ his frown at her remark, but she only managed a slight 'oops' motion with her fingers to her helm. 

"If we succeed, we clear our names, the child will be safe, and we can resume taking jobs from the Guild," Mando broke in finally, after getting over her joke. 

_ 'I'm not saying the reward isn't worth it. Only that it's very clearly a trap,' _ Nix retorted earnestly.

"I agree, which is why it's better to not go alone," he began setting the destination in the navigation: Sorgan.

_ 'Are you sure you aren't just going to see Omera?'  _ she regretted signing that after she did. It had been months since they had left and undoubtedly that was still fresh in his mind. He hadn't wanted to leave.

Mando's fingers tightened on the controls at her snark. "No, we're only looking for Dune," he insisted harshly. 

_ 'Right,'  _ there was no sarcasm in her agreement, but it must have come off that way. Mando turned toward her, making her freeze midstep. 

"Nix."

_ 'Yeah?' _

"Omera was... a wish. I would have never belonged there," he told her, again surprising her with the softness of his voice. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood straight up. " _This_ is right."

_ 'What... does that mean?' _ she asked hesitantly.

He turned away from her and focused back on the dash. "Interpret it how you will."

The tenderness of the moment evaporated and Nix narrowed her eyes at him, aware that was the end of the conversation. He wasn't going to look at her to see what she was signing. Bloody aggravating. One step forward, two back. Or... was it truly? He'd admitted that them working together was right and the simple life on Sorgan would have never worked.  _ Doesn't mean you have to read into it in a romantic manner,  _ she reminded herself lightly before heading back below deck.

Settling into routine on their way to Sorgan, Nix tried not to dwell on their conversation. Instead, she worked out as usual, sat up in the cockpit learning more Mando'a, and spent time with the child. The kid was getting rather cheeky, having never truly gotten over losing his community on Sorgan. Didn't help that Mando was being weird and moody. Maybe it was the impending problem in Nevarro that distracted him, she couldn't say for certain. 

Excitement welled in her to see Cara again. Her time beside the shock trooper had been the only redeeming part about the backwater planet. Having learned her hand to hand combat because of Cara, Nix was keen to see the unit of a woman. Part of her foolishly hoped that she was comparable in size, but knew that was just a silly wish. 

Setting the child in his pram, she watched on as he slept. They would be landing soon on Sorgan, though he wouldn't get to see his old friends. It would bring forth too many good memories only to dash it with the brief visit. Beneath her, the _Razor Crest_ hummed, coming to touch down on the planet, her head lifting toward the door as she considered the last time they were there. 

A hand brushed her hip, making her jump. Static clung to where Mando had slipped by her, his hand nowhere near her now. Confused, she stared at him through the Y-shaped visor, trying to comprehend what she had just felt. His own T-visor was set forward as the dock lowered. Glancing back toward her, he inclined his head, a slight bit of arrogance lining his shoulders - which took her aback. 

"You just going to stand there? I thought you were more excited to see Dune." 

Nix flapped her gums in exasperation, cheeks burning, wondering if she had just imagined the touch. Wouldn't be the first time she thought she'd imagined things. She had been absorbed with looking at the child that she had not heard him come down. It had probably been accidental. 

_'Yeah, let's go,'_ she finally managed, thankful that at least in sign language she wouldn't stutter or sound as flustered as she felt. The carriage listed behind them as they traveled the familiar path back to the original town they had landed by. Her mind wandered, recalling how thin she had been when they were last here. Now, she filled out her armor and moved with wolfish pride. Standard days bled together when traveling sub-light. With no true sun cycle, day or night, it was easy to forget the amount of time gone by. Only the clock was indicative of that and even so, she and Mando often alternated their schedules to have peace without their helmet on.

As of late, she'd noticed he was awake the same time as her.

Drawing a deep breath, her eyes turned up toward the blue sky, boots squelching on the damp, peaty road. Thrumming with activity, the cantina drew their attention. It had been where they were headed anyways, but there was quite an attraction there that afternoon. Stepping inside, it was packed, people roaring in excitement, shoulder to shoulder. Being short, it was difficult to see what was going on. However, Mando led the way toward the bar, finding enough room for them to stand side by side, close enough that their bandoliers brushed against another.

Ignoring the proximity, her eyes turned to the fighters, a grin forming on her lips as she saw Cara fighting a male Zabrak. They were tied together by laser tether belts to keep the other fighter from straying too far or running. One of them would have to tap out on the belt. While Cara was impressive, she was actually outmatched in strength for once. Leaning forward toward the fight, Nix felt her gloved fingers clutch in front of her as she saw Cara land a hard punch.

The Zabrak traded her, keeling her over and smashing her on the back. Nix flinched as Cara stumbled, nearly falling on the ground. She recovered, spitting out a mouthful of blood, pouncing back on the Zabrak. She forced him near the bar, precariously close to where they had been standing. Nix, eager to support her friend, was right in the line of fire until Mando jerked her back and out of the way. 

"Watch out-" he growled, but there was no insistence in his voice as Nix continued to watch the fight, barely noticing that their beskar pressed together, his hips against her back as they fought for room.

If she could have, she would have shouted for Cara. Instead, she kept her eyes pinned to the woman as she wiped the Zabrak on the bar, smashing several glasses of spotchka, spilling the glowing blue booze on the counter. No one aside from the proprietor seemed upset, instead reeling on the high the fight was providing.

They faced off again, the Zabrak realizing he could use their tether to his advantage. He began tugging the woman closer to him, to force an encounter as she caught her breath. Instead of being pulled in, she charged, grabbing the tether and whipping it up and around his neck. The Zabrak had thick skin, trying to overpower him with punches would just end up in bloodied knuckles for Cara. However, she used the tether as a way to choke him, driving him to his knees as he made an attempt to get his meaty fingers between his throat and the tether.

Instead, he tapped out, the red line fizzing away as he gasped on the ground like a fish out of water. Cara swaggered toward the patrons who were shouting in various languages, demanding to be paid. Once the Zabrak had recovered, he also paid Cara for losing the fight. 

Cara had already noticed them, making her way toward them as Nix went to meet her. Clapping a hand on the petite woman's shoulder, Cara laughed, gripping her tightly. "Didn't think I'd be seeing either of you anytime soon... although, it's been quite a while," Cara grinned, drawing Nix closer in a semi embrace. Her eyes slid over toward Mando. "He been treating you well?"

Nix shrgged, much to his chagrin. This reaction drew a loud snort from Cara, who directed them toward a table. Even in the face of their reunion, the shock trooper knew that neither Mandalorian would have returned to Sorgan without a reason. An order of spotchka was brought over for Cara, who sipped on her victory, glancing between the pair, settling eventually on the child.

"So," Cara drawled, breaking the bit of silence. "What are you here for?"

"We need your help on Nevarro," Mando began, explaining the situation with Greef Karga and the proposition set in front of them. "We could use your fire power."

Cara grimaced, taking another hearty sip of her beer. "Still have a bounty on my head. Isn't the greatest idea for me to go traipsing right into the Guild."

"The Client that Karga is referring to is an ex-Imperial warlord."

Cara set down her tankard, considering these words carefully, before her face broke in a smile. "Mando, you really know how to rub a woman the right way. I'm in."

Finishing her round, Cara picked up and headed back to the _Razor Crest_ with them. Truthfully, Nix was glad to be off the planet and back in the company of the ex-Rebel. She'd missed Cara's banter, her smiles, and the sisterhood she didn't have with Mando. Cara was a friend. Settling back on board, Mando returned to the cockpit to set their destination again, leaving the women down below.

"Look at you, if not for your beskar, I don't think I'd recognize you," Cara joked, waving a hand toward her as they looked within the gun cabinet. 

_'Check these out-'_ she flexed for Cara, though her arms were still quite pitiful in comparison to hers.

Cara gripped her bicep and gave an approving nod. "Not bad, featherfeet, not bad," she admitted, leaning against the ship. "How's he been treating you? I know you two weren't exactly on good terms when you left Sorgan."

_'We're doing better now,'_ Nix admitted honestly, plopping down on the storage container, swinging her short legs. _'Was a bit tense at first, but he's not half bad now. Still a stupid buckethead.'_

"I think you often forget you're a buckethead too," Cara smirked, tapping her head. "You're not all sunshine and daisies too, Nix. You've got quite a temper and mouth on you for someone who doesn't have a voice."

_'Hey, that's part of my undeniable charm,'_ Nix pouted. But Cara was right. Hearing it from her was easier. If Mando had said it, she might have spat fire. Their relationship had never been strained, so she took Cara's criticism better than she could take the other Mandalorian. 

"Oh yeah, you're a charmer alright," Cara drawled sarcastically, pausing to consider the arsenal again. "This contact on Nevarro, does he know that I'm coming?"

Nix shook her head, waiting for Cara to look back at her. _'As far as he knows, I still weigh 60lbs soaking wet.'_

"Huh, that could be a problem..."

_ 'Not ours, it's Karga's problem. Never specified who we could and could not bring.' _

Cara clucked, picking up a heavy blaster. "Do you trust him?"

_'Kriff no!'_ she pressed a sigh, which hissed out her modulator. _'It's undoubtedly a trap, but Mando thinks that we've got to try. Guild isn't going to stop hunting us, so if there's a chance that we can resolve this, it's worth it.'_

"What are the two of you going to do afterward? If this, somehow, ends up working in your favor?" Cara asked curiously. "I mean, given your growth, I don't think there's much reason for you to be stuck with Mando if you don't want to be."

Nix licked her lips. She had thought it a couple of times, having observed Mando operate the _Razor Crest_ intently, wondering if she could do the same with another starship. Maybe it was time for her to forge her own path, acquire beskar, and then have the rest of her armor made. After all, the _Crest_ was really only big enough for him and he'd probably prefer being on his own if given the opportunity. She was the broken apprentice, a sour note in the back of his throat. Even if they got along now, she doubted he liked having her stick around. Duty was the nature of their relationship.

She'd taken too long in answering.

"Unless you like being around that buckethead?" Cara suggested, arching a dark brow at her.

Nix immediately waved her hands to try and dismiss the thought. _'I don't know yet. Nothing is carved in stone yet-'_ her attempt was abysmal and Cara saw her trembling hands as she tried to come up with a remark to not make it seem as if she actually might like Mando more than a partner. Kriff, she'd only just thought of him in the shower, could Cara read her mind!?

Her cheeks were burning as if they were on fire. 

"I always had a feeling you were older than he cared to admit. But now... what's it like sharing such a small starship together-"

Her suggestion nearly had Nix faint from embarrassment. It was one thing to have these thoughts in her head and another to have someone say them out loud. Frazzled beyond belief, she jumped down from her perch and hurried over to Cara.  _ 'We alternate sleep cycles - and, and, and-' _ thoughts weren't coming, her hands just shook.

Cara roared with laughter, tears forming at the edges of her eyes as she placed a large hand down on top of Nix's helmet, drawing her in. "I'm only messing with you, Nix. Although now, I'm a bit more convinced-" she tapered off, just as Mando was coming down from the cockpit. Tilting her head, Cara whispered in her ear. "Oh, there he is. Cutting quite an impressive figure."

Nix shoved her away, stalking toward the corner to sulk. In less than an hour, Cara had seen right through her beskar and into her ruddy, deviant brain. Maker, she was right, and it only hurt more to acknowledge this as she snuck a glance over at him. Beskar winking in the dim light of the storage shed, his head turned toward Cara who was still recovering from her fit of laughter. Tall and lean, he walked with a purpose, shoulders set back and relaxed in easy confidence. There was no supplied arrogance like there had been in Calican, he just had... that gait that attracted attention naturally. Even if you couldn't see his face, there was something dangerously handsome about the manner he moved in.

"Is... everything alright here?" he drawled finally, confusion clear in his deep, modulated voice.

"Just messing around," Cara said offhandedly.

Mando glanced toward her, making her face heat up even more. Thank the Maker for the helmet or he would have seen how flustered she was. "We're heading to Arvala-7. Someone will need to watch the child."

Nix considered these words, her brief memories of the planet, and the fractured thoughts of the lab she had stumbled out of. She'd never discussed this with Mando. Not with anyone. She could try and retrace her steps, find out what was in the lab, and maybe a shred of who she might have been in the past. _No, your place is here now,_ she reminded herself duly.

Settling into her hammock eventually, Nix reflexively played with her vibro-blade, turning it between her fingers. With another person on the ship, there was little time for privacy. Instead, the Mandalorians took their meals in the cockpit to have a moment to remove their helmets and enjoy the air. Of course, only one at a time, as the stars streamed by on the dash. Halfway through her rations and with her feet kicked up, Nix thought back to Cara's question. What was she going to do? If everything with the Guild got settled, she could go do bounties on her own.

A knock on the door made her drop her food and fumble for her helmet. Shoving it on, she stood up and opened the hatch, allowing Mando to enter via the ladder. Turning back to the mess she'd made, she bent over to begin gathering it from the floor. 

"Did I startle you?" he asked, watching as she picked up the last of rations.

_ 'A bit,' _ she admitted.

"Sorry," he grumbled. "Look, I-" he drew in a sharp breath, hissing through the vocoder. 

Nix stood up, leveling her gaze toward him.  _ 'Loth-cat caught your tongue?' _ she teased, assuming that he wanted to eat his own meal, which is why he'd pestered her. Stepping around him, she made a movement toward the hatch.

He closed it.

Turning back toward him, her brows furrowed, wondering if she'd done something wrong and was about to get reamed out for it. Cara and her had been grappling over the past couple of days, maybe they were making too much of a ruckus. But before she could lift her hand to ask, 'what', he was on her. Her heart jumped into her throat, fingers scrambling for her knife. The vibro-blade when skittering to the floor, sliding across the cockpit, as she was pinched against the wall, a strong arm pressed against her collar.

"Nix-" he breathed, looking down at her, his voice husky steaming out of his vocoder. 

_ What the hell was going on? _ She was frozen, her fingers splayed against the wall. Her chin was tilted up, eyes searing into the shape of his T-visor. Each breath she took began hotter, more blistering as she tried to comprehend what was happening. Maybe she was dreaming, sleeping in the pilot's seat in the cockpit, imagining that this happened. 

"After this... are you leaving?" his voice was quiet, but she hung on each word. She was trapped. He was the hunter and she was the prey.

_ 'Why? Do you want me to stay around?' _

"I overheard Cara the other day-"

So he hadn't heard her, because there was nothing to hear. Grinding her teeth, she drew a shuddering breath. There hadn't been an exceeding amount that Cara had said, since it was her that had been growing embarrassed and fumbling her hands. 

_ 'Eavesdropping? How rude.' _

"Nix, just answer my question."

_ 'Answer mine,'  _ she retorted willfully.

They were at a stalemate, neither wanting to admit what their hearts knew. Waiting, the pressure from her collar lifted and only disappointment welled in her instead. Dropping her hands, she swept by him and retrieved her discarded knife, sliding it back into her vambrace with a click. Her shoulders quaked slightly, wanting more than nothing else in the galaxy to hear him say that he wanted her there. He couldn't even do that much.

Closing her eyes, she knew that it was time to move on after Nevarro.  _ She couldn't do this. _

The subtle brushes, the hints that there might be more between them, the forlorn feelings and anxiousness she felt when he spoke to her. She was looking for obscured hints and maybe she was being unfair. Mando might only see her as a partner and she was forcing his hand in another direction. But Maker, it was difficult to be around him in this tiny ship when all they had was each other for company aside from the child. Naturally, for her, she'd been drawn in and it wasn't fair for her to expect the same of him. He was likely just touch-starved, wishing for companionship and would regret it'd been with her after. She wasn't Omera. Not even close.

Turning around, he was still watching her, silently observing her movements. There were no hints, nothing but the stiff line of his shoulders and impassive tilt of his helmet. "Nix," there was an edge of desperation in the tone of his voice, but he didn't reach out as she moved toward the hatch, kicking it open, and relinquishing herself to her hammock. She knew he cared about her, but probably not in the same way she worried for him. To him, she'd probably be nothing more than that 'Kid' from Arvala-7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nix isn't lovey dovey, but she acknowledges she certainly has more feelings for Din than she should. Of course, she'll always compare herself to Omera, thinking that is the kind of woman Din wants.


	10. Din's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan was to kill the Client and be free of the ex-Imperials. Only it'd turned out to be more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, because y'all asked me AND I couldn't help myself between baking for Christmas.
> 
> Also over 1k views. OMG you guys are amazing. I really can't believe the turn out for this fic. Thank you sooooo much.

He hated himself. Absolutely, loathed himself as he steered the  _ Razor Crest  _ down toward Arvala-7. 

Ever since Nix had helped heal him, he could only recall the roaming of her fingers across his chest, her icy touch breaking through the pain he felt. Of course, in that situation, it'd hurt like a bastard, but the concern in her and the careful manner in which she handled the situation - he thought back to when they'd returned to the  _ Razor Crest  _ and he'd caught her half-nude. He wanted her. Each day was agony, considering how he might make an attempt to convey what he felt, but instead each attempt died in the back of his throat. He'd never had issues getting what he wanted before this and yet, Nix was elusive without intending to be. Without a voice, without being able to see her face - he could only gauge her reactions so much.

Omera had been different. There was that calm peace about her, an atmosphere and life that Mando wished he could have lived. Beside Nix, he was himself and unapologetically so. He needn't hide his inklinations and they just...  _ worked _ . He found the humor in her light-heartedness and the way she was always trying to get beneath his skin. The woman was impish, but he had grown to enjoy the banter rather than the lonely silence he was accustomed to. Since leaving Sorgan, he'd smiled a lot more than he ever thought he could. Originally, there was conflict over her being his assigned apprentice, but now the division had become blatantly clear. She hadn't been an apprentice since leaving Sorgan and he'd trusted her as a partner on each mission after. 

Even if he'd teased her about her fixation on Calican, now he realized that the young man's staring had actually bothered him. Nix was  _ his  _ partner. He reiterated to himself frequently that these feelings were just lust and he shouldn’t act on them, for fear of estranging a partner whose abilities complimented his own. But kriff that was difficult. Each time he saw her, the curve of her hips through her armor, the sway of her auburn braid, or just the aggravating whimsical jokerness about her - his heart ached. There was so much emotion in the way she moved and he often stared as she did simple things, like taking care of the child. 

Since dealing with Malk’s mercenary faction, he'd erred closer than he'd dared before, almost afraid that his wings were made of wax and he was flying too close to the sun. Still, he'd been unable to help himself, brushing past her, maybe touching her shoulder or her hip or the small of her back. Just  _ hoping  _ that she'd understand the gestures. Instead, he'd confused her. Each time she noticed, she just stared at him, almost as if she hadn't believed that it had happened or maybe she was containing her anger quietly - he couldn’t see or hear her. Thinking back, he realized he'd been rather callous and cold with her, which was why her perception was skewed.

Now he'd fucked it all to hell. He couldn't even tell her how he felt because he was worried about  _ forcing  _ her to stay or that this was all a mistake and he was just horny. Nix would listen to him, like a good soldier, even if her heart wasn't in it. If he told her he wished she would stay, she would and eventually resentment would well between them. He wanted to hear it from her,  _ maybe  _ she felt similar, but she'd leveled her head at him obstinately and demanded he talk first. There was no knowing and so, he'd resigned himself to silence.

Nix needed to carve her own path as a Mandalorian. He had taught her Mando’a, of the Creed - trying to make up for his failures back on Sorgan. 

Stepping out onto Arvala-7's acrid landscape, his eyes panned to where Kuiil's farm was. It seemed ages ago that he'd met her there, a nervous little thing in too big rags. So frail and tiny, little more than a child. But... looking at her now... Her auburn braid caught the light of the fading sunlight, throwing hues of roan, amber, and cinnamon. It was a motley of colors, golden but red, and he'd never noticed how pretty it was before. He wondered what her face looked like now. She had been so gaunt before and he'd never seen her face after her health had improved. While he knew it was their duty to the Creed, he couldn't help but imagine what she might look like now; long dark lashes and copper brown eyes. Her face... what would the structure be like now?

Kuiil was willing to go. His own mind swapped between importance as he worried that Nix might leave come the end of this mission. The child would need a home. How long had it been since they had come together as a small, rag tag family? Between all the interstellar traveling, it was astonishing to think nearly a year had passed since Arvala-7. The Ugnaught had pointed out how the child hadn't aged since then and Mando had never quite noticed. The child just... was. That twinkling little star that tethered him back to reality, managing to repair the tension between both Mandalorians who took care of him.

They were a family. 

The  _ Razor Crest _ was packed, filled to the brim with Kuiil's blurggs, the blasted IG-droid, Cara, Nix, the child... There was no privacy, no means for a conversation before any of this went down. Amongst the others, Cara translated to Kuiil, who was being filled in on what had happened to them since they left. She moved with animation, making it easy to forget that the elaborate story coming from her - though made simpler by Cara's quick translations - were spoken through signals and not a warm, soprano voice. Her words - he'd always heard them through a high, but melodic tone as he saw her signal. Why he put a timbre to her silence, he didn't know, but it sang just as her beskar did.

They were nearing Nevarro when Nix popped into the cockpit, her golden helm glinting in the light of day as it cast through the windshield. Pausing to look at her, he stifled a breath. The last moment before the storm, the last opportunity he might have to speak to her for just a subtle minute.

"Nix," her head craned up as she propped her arms around the hatch, on the floor. "Back on Arvala-7... Did you remember anything?"

She'd never talked about her past or if she recalled even the slightest sliver. He'd never asked. _ 'I remember a lab. I was being kept in a lab.' _

"Why didn't you say anything? We could have gone there."

_ 'I don't remember where it was,'  _ she cocked her head curiously.  _ 'Why would I want to go there?' _

"To learn about what happened to you," he reminded her.

_ 'I don't care. I'm Mandalorian now. Whoever I was before, it's just dust in the wind. I'm here now.' _

He didn't know if her words were an answer to his prior question, his heart burning as she said this. Instead, he cleared his throat and brought the starship the rest of the way to meet the black, craggy earth. He knew he would just have to accept what happened in the end, even if Nix decided to part ways. 

She dropped down to prepare the others for offloading. Glancing at the child, who was in the pram, he considered the danger they were putting him in bringing him back here. It was foolish to believe everything would go off without a hitch. For now, the child would need to be present to get them where they needed to go. 

"We'll make this fast," he promised the baby, the small green hand gripping his outstretched finger. Closing the pram, he headed down with the others who had already mounted the blurggs; he was the last one. Stepping into the stirrup, he lowered the landing dock and followed them out, the blurrgs lumbering forward to meet the Guild members, Karga at the head.

"Sorry for the remote rendezvous, but the town is being run by ex-Emprie forces and we need to make it look like we took you in," Greef elaborating, his dark eyes sliding between the figures exiting the ship, hovering with a slight hint of confusion over Nix. "You brought some... extra people."

"You never specified that we had to come alone," Mando retorted calmly.

"Well," Karga laughed, albeit nervously. "I also didn't realize the kid with you... wasn't a kid."

_ 'Nice to see you again,' _ Nix waved cheekily.

"Why don't you leave the rebel behind. She'll only garner attention and someone needs to stay behind to guard the ship from Jawas," Greef said offhandedly.

Behind him were three other bounty hunters, including a human, Nikto, and Trandoshan. They were four to four with their current numbers, which Karga probably didn't like, especially since two of them wore beskar. 

"She's coming," Mando answered sternly.

Greef spared one more glance at Cara. "Fine," he hissed. "But she needs to cover her tattoo. It's a dead give away..." he popped his lips. "Now, where is the child?"

Grudgingly, having not forgotten that Karga had tried to kill them and had shot Nix, he touched his vambrace to pan the pram forward. His partner tensed as it opened, fingers grazing her blaster as the man approached it. 

"Aw, it's so cute!" he bent down and picked the child up, a terse silence falling over everyone. "A lot of trouble going on because of you," he set the baby back down and Mando sealed it immediately. "We need to keep traveling. Days are short this time of year, so there's only a few more hours of sunlight."

As Greef had claimed, night approached quickly, swallowing the bloody horizon in darkness. Having passed a native fauna, one of the other bounty hunters shot it, and they were now roasting it over a spit. The camp fire roared on the ridge they'd set up on. His crew was tense, wondering if they'd be ambushed in the night. Neither he or Nix partook in eating the meat, the young woman dozing slightly beside him, leaning against his shoulder like back on Tatooine. 

"The plan," Mando elicited, rousing Nix, who sat up blearily. 

"Easy," Greef said nonchalantly. "There's only four bodyguards. We use the child as bait, then kill him at the table. They're holed up in the common house."

_ 'Both of us? There's not exactly anywhere I can hole up and snipe from,' _ Nix signed, shaking away the last bits of sleepiness from her bones. 

"What about reinforcements?" Mando asked.

"They are all mercenaries. Kill the kingpin, the rest will scatter like womp rats," Greef shrugged, utilizing the analogy completely incorrect. Womp rats would form huge pods and attack villages. There was no leader, they were a hive. 

"They looked like Imperials last we were here," Mando voiced uncertainly.

"There are only four bodyguards. There's two Mandalorians sitting in front of me. Not a thing to worry about," Greef gesticulated, raising his hand up in emphasis. 

The night vision on his helmet fluctuated, a creature sweeping down from the sky, digging fangs into Karga's outstretched arm. Tumbling to the ground, the man held his injury, as the predator continued to sweep across the camp. Rolling, he grabbed Nix, pressing her down to the ground with his own body as the avian swooped overhead, snagging the top of his cloak. Breathing hard, he stood up, trying to pinpoint where the attack had come from. The light from the fire was screwing with his night vision, making it more difficult to see past the breadth of the flames.

Nix grabbed her bow, crouching low as the bounty hunters began firing off into the air aimlessly. His eyes continued to pan, hearing Kuiil's roar of fear as one of the blurggs was carried off. There was more than one. Nix stood, engaging her grappling hook, being jerked right off her feet as she caught one of the raptors by a wing. Cara lifted her weapon, about to shoot it down, but Nix was too close, she'd get hit by the heavy blaster. Landing on the reptavian, which flailed in the air, she drove an arrow bolt into its head, sending it falling to the ground.

Certain that she was fine, he pressed his vambrace, spurting flamethrower across the clearing to drive away the last two who were still lingering. Singing one to a crisp, Cara finished it off as Nix detangled herself from the one she'd kill. The Trandoshan bounty hunter had been picked off, the others hovering around Karga as he clutched his rendered arm. 

Cara was there first, but Mando waited for Nix, who trotted up and slung her bow back onto her back. _ 'Good morning,'  _ she greeted to his chagrin. Placing a hand behind her back, he ushered her quickly toward where Karga was writhing on the ground. 

"So this is it," he said airily, clutching his wound. He was losing blood quickly, bones visible between the torn flesh. It was astonishing that his arm hadn't been ripped off during the exchange, but as Cara worked, they realized the prospects were bleak.

"The venom is spreading," Dune hissed, having just spent a can of bacta-spray, checking the spread through his blood again. "Does anyone have another medpac? One more should do it - one more-"

Everyone watched on with harrowed expressions, heads shaking. 

"It's fine," Greef told her in a resigned tone of voice. 

But it wasn't. The child lumbered up, having escaped his pram during the entire fiasco. Tottering forward, he reached for Greef's hopeless arm, closing his luminous eyes to draw a thin breath. Concentrating, the child shuddered slightly, Karga's ragged breathing becoming steady, the pain on his face shifting to amazement as the ruined flesh began to reknit itself in front of them all. Mando knew of the child's abilities, but he'd never seen it utilized like this. 

"Has... has he ever done anything like that before?" Cara whispered, observing with her reader that there was no more venom in Karga's blood.

"No, not healing," Mando murmured, lifting the child as he fell backward, eyes swimming and head reeling. Cradling the baby close to him, he gave an approving nod, as if to tell him that he'd done a good job. Just as with the mudhorn, the baby was drowsy, trying to blink away sleep just to gaze up at him. "Sleep. You have deserved it."

Night was uncertain, the few last hours spent quietly around the fire, Nix sitting close to him, though she was alert now. He might have had a wry remark, a comment on her dauntlessness when facing one of the creatures, but it didn't seem right. Not when everyone was so anxious and amazed by what they had just witnessed. But he did think about it. Her tenacity and cunning.

When morning came, the group continued with less blurggs and one less bounty hunter. Remembering the landscape, he knew that they were coming up on the last rise before the town. If Karga intended on betraying them, which it was likely he did, it would be now or never. Cara and Nix knew this too. 

Karga walked at the front, the two bounty hunters at the rear. Nix flicked her wrist, ready to throw her dagger given the signal. The child was safe in his pram, which was closed, and Kuiil pulled up the rear, but likely wouldn't be able to quickfire from up above. His breath kept steady, watching for telltale hints that Karga was about to turn on them. Nix cocked her head, observing the rear from the corner of her helm's visor. 

Greef spun, weapons coming unholstered, blaster shots going off. Behind them, the two bounty hunters fell, their own weapons cocked toward Karga. He had shot first. But he hadn't shot any of them.

"Our plan was to shoot you dead and take the child," he dropped his blasters, which pittered in the sand. "I couldn't do it. Not after the child saved me last night. *I should have died*."

He hadn't expected Karga to have this sort of honor, but he holstered his own blaster, nodding toward the women who flanked him. Nix returned hers without an afterthought, but Cara was less convinced. "He just said he was supposed to kill us," the ex-Rebel pointed out tersely.

"Listen, you need my help if you want to be free of the Imps. If I'm not with you, you won't be able to get into the town. The Client is absolutely *obsessed* with the baby," Karga shuddered slightly at the thought. 

"I don't buy it. It's another trap. He knew we were going to kill his companions," Cara droned.

_ 'I don't know. What other options do we have other than leaving?' _ Nix countered thoughtfully.

"You should listen to him," Kuiil agreed, despite having not heard Nix.

Turning back to Karga, Mando sighed slightly. He wanted to end this, even if it meant losing Nix to her own journey. "What do you propose?"

"Similar idea. Use the child as bait."

_'No way,'_ Nix shook her head obstinately. _'He's already at risk being this close to the town. He's not going any further.'_

He agreed, bringing the child amidst the fire fight would just endanger him needlessly. "Kuiil will take the child back to the ship. We can use the pram as bait," Mando offered. "Take us as prisoners. Then, once we're in front of him, we will kill the Client and be over with it. You get your town back and we get our freedom."

"Are you insane?! As a prisoner? We'll have to cuff the both of you for it to be slightly believable," Cara hissed.

_ 'Cuffs, schmuffs. Sign me up,' _ Nix dangled her wrists in front of her.

He chuckled at her heart. "The Client knows that we both took the child. There is nowhere for Nix to lay in cover to shoot us out. She has to come as well."

"Fine.  _ Fine _ !" Cara hissed bitterly. "I don't like this plan. I don't like either of you putting yourselves in such a shitty position."

"They're Mandalorian, don't worry about them so much," Karga retorted to the woman's dismay.

Kuiil was sent back with the child, padding away on his last remaining blurgg. Afterward, their wrists were bound with cuffs, and Karga took Nix's weapons. Dune tied a piece of cloth around her tattoo, drawing in a lengthy sigh as she shook her head at the idea. He also didn't like being disarmed, but it was the only way the Imperials would let their guard down long enough for them to turn it. If there were only 4 guards, they easily outnumbered them since the old warlord wouldn't put up much of a fight. 

Preparing himself mentally, he felt a nudge, Nix bumping into his arm before cocking her helmet up at him. She couldn't quite sign with her cuffs on, but he knew by the lightness in her shoulders that she was trying to reassure him. Tilting down, he didn't know what possessed him to do it, but he pressed the brow of his helm to hers. They'd make it through this and figure out what to do after. Even if this was as close as he got to her, he was happy to have had such a whimsical partner.

They continued toward the town, a frown pressing his lips as he noticed that the place was crawling with white plastoid armor. Just four guards? Recalling what Karga had said on the hologram message, he hadn't quite believed that the place had been put under complete and utter rule. Maybe Karga had more to get out of this than turning him in. His little town had been turned into an Imp outpost and knowing Karga, that likely made him quite salty.

"Fine, here you go," he snarled, revealing his chain code as the scout troopers challenged him. They were passed through, Greef continuing to mutter under his breath. "Can't believe they didn't recognize me. It's not as if I run the Guild," he drawled sarcastically.

"There are way more than you told us," Cara mumbled quietly beside Karga.

"Only four guard the Client," Karga insisted. "They increased their security after Mando and the twerp blasted their safe house to hell."

He'd counted twenty soldiers so far. 

The door to the familiar cantina slid open with a puff. The four troopers that Karga had admitted to were milling around, dark robes fluttering about the frail, old man that they'd overheard through their tridents on the roof. He swallowed hard, stomach boiling with fury as he looked toward the elderly man that had made their life hell for nearly a year. 

"We have brought the Mandalorians who caused so many issues a while ago. We also have the child," Greef told the man with a pep in his step, motioning to his work. 

"Good," the Client gave a slimy smile, his eyes sliding from Mando, to the pram, and then over to Nix. "Ah, so that's the Valkyrie unit. Take her-" he motioned for the other troopers to go forward. Two stepped up and grabbed Nix, each holding one of her biceps. Her helmet snapped between them, bile rising in the back of his throat.  _ They knew something about her that they didn't know.  _ "The Moff will be pleased of this," he turned to the bar, entreating the RA-7 protocol droid for a drink. 

"Interesting that you took her in as a Mandalorian. Although, I suppose you didn't know. Ironically enough, the Valkyrie units were used to hunt Jedi, which Mandalorians also hate, so it's not too surprising that you would get along," the Client picked up his glass, sliding one down the bar to give to Greef and Cara. "We should drink to this," he motioned toward the troopers again.

Karga was confused, he had moved too far from Mando to offer him the keys to his bindings. The Client started up a holoprojector, taking a careful step toward where Nix was being restrained. "Now, I really want to see what the fuss was about. Only one other unit survived the lab's disrepair," he reached up and disengaged the seal on Nix's helmet. 

Mando snapped his neck to Karga, entreating - no,  _ begging  _ him to do something. To  _ stop  _ them before her helmet was removed. But they were all frozen in horror, wanting to know more about the Valkyries. His eyes turned back to look at her, the young woman beneath the mask unlike how he'd remembered her back on Arvala-7. Her face was no longer gaunt, her jawline delicate, but pronounced. A soft chin supported full pink lips, her nose straight and narrow. Auburn curls were plastered to her face from sweat and her almond shaped, coppery eyes narrowed in fury, warm brown brows winging above. 

She was breathtaking - and unmasked.

Karga slipped him the keys, allowing for him to hastily begin unlocking his cuffs beneath the table. 

"So it's true. Made to be disarming," the Client tapped the chuck of her chin, forcing her head up so that she had to look him in the eye. "How many people have you killed with that pretty face of yours, unit L0-K1? You shouldn't cover it up."

The holoprojector sputtered with an image, the blaster coming to his fingers as the Client turned back. "We have the child and the Valkyrie unit, L0-K1," he announced smugly.

"Are you certain you have the child?" the figure on the projector asked.

Mando glanced toward the others, gauging their preparedness, before wrenching his eyes over to look back at Nix. It felt like a betrayal to her, to gaze upon her face without her mask on. Her jaw was locked, a vein tensing against her throat, she was  _ livid _ . He knew what kind of carnage the ex-assassin can wreak in a mood like this. Her fingers flickered, quickly spelling,  _ 'Go'. _

He shot the Client, the old man slumping against the counter, before he turned on the stormtroopers who had a grip on his partner. She ducked, the diversion of him shooting the ex-warlord enough of a distraction that she was able to go limp in the arms of the stormtroopers, causing them to sag forward. He shot the first and Cara shot the second.

Nix lifted her hands, displaying her cuffs for everyone to see, as Karga turned and shot the last soldier. Rushing over to her, he barely had a moment before blaster fire rained above them from the long window behind the bar. Dropping to the ground, he managed to crawl toward her and unlock her cuffs. Immediately, she snagged her discarded helmet and shoved it back onto her head with a hiss. Greef slid her bow across the floor, which she turned on and drew, but they weren't in a favorable position. 

Gripping her arm, he tore her toward the side of the building, behind pillars where they might be able to hook shots out the window. "Doesn't look like they're scattering!" Cara shouted reproachfully.

"That  _ was  _ the Client!" Karga retorted hotly. 

"He answered to someone else," Mando gritted through his teeth, shooting out the window and knocking a stormtrooper flat. 

"Death troopers!" Cara hit the floor.

They were holed up with nowhere to go. The entire town had been taken and there appeared to be more reinforcements bleeding in. This had been a grievous mistake. Not only were they stuck, Nix's helmet had been removed. He glanced toward her, observing the tense lock of her shoulders. She hadn't worn the helmet as long as he had, but it was important to her, it was all she knew. 

"Kuiil," he hissed into his commlink, hoping that they were back on the ship and had engaged ground protocol. "We are pinned. You need to leave. Do you hear me? You need to take the child and leave."

He didn't receive an answer, which did little to abate the obnoxiously loud beating of his heart. 

The firing had stopped, leaving them sitting in the broken mess of the cantina, only listening to their own ragged breathing. Soldiers meandered outside, standing in formation, waiting. It didn't take long for them to find out why as an Outland TIE fighter zipped down from the sky and landed carefully behind the formation. These were not remnant Imperials. The Empire appeared to have intentions on making another stand against the New Republic, but was biding their time amongst the Outer Rim.

A man stepped out, bedecked in dark plastoid armor, a cloak fluttering behind in like a raven's wing in the wind. Turning his dark countenance toward the shattered window that looked into the cantina, he spoke, "You have something I want. And you have no idea what  _ it _ is."

"Kuiil?" Mando hissed into the link again.

"I shall have it in my possession in just a few moments. It means more to me than any of you shall ever know."

He turned around, tapping the side of his helmet as he thought of their next plan of action. The sewers would lead down to the Tribe, who would be the only hope in taking on the Imperials. There was a grate, situated behind a booth. Pushing himself to his feet, he pulled aside the cushions to discover that the grate was sealed against the stone wall.

"We need to get into the sewers. We have a covert down there-"

"They're setting something up," Cara told him warily.

His fingers locked around the grate and he pulled to no result. Cara pushed by him, firing her heavy blaster at the grate. 

"Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster. If you are unfamiliar with this weapon, I am sure that Republican Shock Trooper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan will advise you that she has witnessed many of her ranks vaporize mid-descent facing the predecessor of this particular model. Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships outfitted with similar ordnance laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in the Night of a Thousand Tears," the Moff spoke again after hearing the shots go off.

"Magistrate Greef Karga, convince your companions to lay down their arms and surrender. If not, I intended on leveling this building to the ground."

"What are you proposing?" Greef asked warily.

Nix kicked him.

"Or," the Moff continued. "Loki. Perhaps I could interest you in your memories and your voice? A shame what happened to such a beautiful creation such as the Valkyries. Genetically manipulated,  _ created  _ to be superior to other races. A superhuman. Had the Jedi not destroyed your team and enslaved you - in and out of cryo for 37 years until you were forgotten - the Empire might have found use for your kind. I offer you the chance to strike back, the chance to stand beside one of your sisters who also survived the terrible conditions you were forced into."

His eyes turned to Nix, who was clutching her bow close to her chest.  _ Her voice? _ Until this point, he'd believed that she had never had a voice. And there was another like her? The Moff had to have found the lab that she had woken up in and raided it. How else would he have this much information about her history? She'd been forgotten for at least 50 years, before the Empire, before the fall of the Old Republic...

"How can we trust you?" Greef interrupted.

"The only assurance I offer you is that I act in my own self-interest. And truthfully, it would be a shame to have to destroy a specimen as rare and remarkable as Loki... At this time, your cooperation would be highly appreciated," he spoke clearly, with perfect diction, and without worry of what might happen. 

"He won't keep his promises. Moment we step outside those doors, he's going to light us up. He  _ might  _ take her, but I bet she'll be going back to another lab," Greef jerked his head in Nix's direction. "We're going to have to make a last stand..." he glanced back nervously toward his partner. "Unless you're some kind of sleeper cell and-"

"She's not," Cara broke in hotly, but her brows pushed together. They'd learned an awful lot about Nix in those brief moments, but not a lot of it had actually made sense. Jedi? "We don't stand a chance against the E-web. We can try and shoot our ways out, but..." even she wasn't hopeful at this point.

"That man was Moff Gideon," Din muttered, the heads turning toward him aside from Nix's.

"How? He was supposed to be executed for war crimes," Cara hissed.

"He knew my name. It hasn't been spoken since I was a child," he revealed, disconcerted.

"Did you grow up on Mandalore?" Greef asked, but then spared a confused look toward Nix. "But she's not... what are you?"

"I was not," Din answered tersely.

"Then neither of you are Mandalorian?"

"Mandalorians are not just a race," Cara told him. 

"It's a Creed," Din clarified, thinking back to his childhood, when the Separatists attacked the city he had lived in. The glint of the battle droids was as fresh in his mind as the day it had happened. "I was saved by the Death Watch and adopted as a Mandalorian. When I came of age, I swore their creed. The only record of my name was in the register of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB officer during the Great Purge... And the only reason he hasn't killed us yet is because he doesn't have the child."

"Then what is she?" Greef's voice hitched hysterically. "Genetically created? I mean she  _ looks  _ human, but what Gideon said..."

"She is a foundling as well, but... a special exception," Din revealed for the first time. They'd thought she was Ch'ot G'evoti, but instead she was some sort of experiment created by the Assassin's Guild. "Until now, we didn't know of her history."

_ 'Guess it makes more sense now,' _ Nix retorted lightly, seemingly nonplussed by the revelation. But he knew that wasn't true. She was trying to deflect, trying to make it seem like she wasn't bothered by everything that was going on. Not only had her helmet been removed, but her past was dangling in front of her along with the promise of her voice.

"Your voice..." Cara whispered.

_ 'I don't need it. Do you think I'd betray any of you to get it? _ ' Nix snapped, the fury lining her shoulders as she signed this.  _ 'Did Kuiil get back to you?' _

Turning down to his commlink again, he spoke, "Kuiil? Did you get the ship out of Nevarro's atmosphere?"

"I have the child," but the cold, metallic voice speaking to them was not that of the Ugnaught. Immediately, his stomach dropped and a cold sweat clung to the back of his neck. "Kuiil has been terminated. However, I cam fulfilling my base structure."

"Is that the  _ fucking  _ droid?" Cara cursed.

"What is your base structure?" Din asked anxiously, wondering if the child was about to be killed.

"To nurse and protect."

_ 'It's coming here,'  _ Nix realized, springing to her feet and checking her equipment. There was barely a moment before blaster shots could be heard reverberating throughout the settlement. The platoon of soldiers began turning, just as a speeder whirled past and barreled into a throng of them, exploding into metal parts, raining down blood. The child was in a bag on its chest, which panned around when a blaster shot toward the droid's center mass.

Cara leapt up, gunning down the distracted troopers that had turned toward the IG-droid. "Cover me," he ordered, Nix flanking him as they burst out the door nearest to them and opposite the sewer grate. Magenta bolts flew, penetrating the armor, skewering the troopers as their heads turned back and forth to try and discern who they should go after. The unit of Death Troopers rounded their assault rifles on them, an arrow planted through the helmet of one as Din made his way forward.

Throwing a detonator, the bomb exploded, knocking a couple more of the black armored troopers away. He sprinted for it, sliding against the dirt and beneath blaster shots before hooking his fingers around the E-web's base. Greef was shooting from the doorway, covering Nix's back while she peeled for him. Cara was dealing with a surge of troopers on the entrance of the cantina. Lifting up the E-web, he began spitting rounds, ripping apart the ranks of stormtroopers. 

He wasn't able to move quickly with it, panning to the left and right, assuming that his teammates had him covered. A death trooper knocked him over, sending the E-web from his hands as he fell. A strong hand gripped his throat, lifting him up off the ground. His own hands scrabbled at those clenching around his windpipe, trying to blink away the darkness forming around his vision.

The man opposing him cried out, dropping him, his vision clearing enough to see the fur collar of Nix's armor as she wrenched the Death Trooper to the ground. Her knife had taken him just between the helmet and chestplate, her fingers jerking as she finished the job off. Yet again, the petite warrior had saved his skin, pelting off to support the droid that still had the child in its possession. 

Din got to his feet, reaching back for the E-web as he saw Moff Gideon pause, considering. He didn't understand why. Not until Gideon raised his blaster and fired at the podium that he'd removed the E-web from. A podium filled with ammo.

* * *

**A.N.**

As many may have caught on, Ch’ot G’evoti and the Valkyries are additions I have made to the Star Wars universe on my own. And you might have guessed that Nix’s lineage is based off of Norse mythology. All Valkyries have wings - the tattoos on their back - and are named after Norse gods. As Nix is very… whimsical and a bit of a jokester, she accordingly has the unit name of L0-K1 or Loki. I don’t want to dive into it too much, since eventually things will be revealed.

For clarification, Valkyries are genetically created assassins/warriors with the intention of being Jedi Killers - they are not droids. This means that Nix is a test tube baby and does not have parents. Her appearance was intentionally beautiful, so that she’d disarm opponents when the need called for it. You can expect the same of any other Valkyries that make their way into the storyline. Valkyries were being ‘created’ during the height of the Old Republic, before Obi-Wan and maybe even Qui-gon, just to give an idea of how old they were. The Assassin’s Guild utilized them and anyone in the guild has to have an identifying marker. Nix may belong to the Assassin’s Guild, but not all Valkyries did.

As for age, this would make Nix around 32 years old physically, aside from the in and outs in cryo. Due to her ‘creation’ she may look slightly more youthful, but she’s not immortal, technically she’s mortal even if she’s a ‘modge podge of genetics’.

I also decided on a face claim for her - Daiane Meneghel, a Brazilian model

My favorite picture of her, where she has auburn hair is this - [Click](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/0c/24/85/0c2485bd1f5b552e86819f3d4536dc76.jpg)

Other inspirations from the same model include - [One](https://iv1.lisimg.com/image/19938999/414full-daiane-meneghel.jpg) | [Two ](https://iv1.lisimg.com/image/19088236/740full-daiane-meneghel.jpg) | [Three](https://iv1.lisimg.com/image/21050938/393full-daiane-meneghel.jpg) | [Four](https://iv1.lisimg.com/image/21051565/740full-daiane-meneghel.jpg) | [Five](https://iv1.lisimg.com/image/19088223/740full-daiane-meneghel.jpg)


	11. Din's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Chrysler.
> 
> Pls don't slay me, but two Din chapters in a row. It's also shorter. And less thoughts cuz his brain hurts.

The shockwave from the explosion sent him flying more than a dozen feet back. All air was driven from his lungs, his eyes not seeing, his ears ringing loudly. He couldn't hear anything. Not the blood rushing in his ears, the pounding of his heart, or the sound of battle around him. Only a piercingly loud ring. Trying to lift his head, his vision wasn't black, but blurred and moving lethargically. Battle was still ongoing, but he couldn't focus on any of it, mind swimming... he was floundering.

He blinked again and he was back in the cantina, laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. They had sealed themselves back in, Nix putting the child down to kneel in front of him. She was signing furiously, but he couldn't make it out.

"You're hurt badly," Cara told him from behind. 

Nix reached forward, grasping for his helmet. He had enough wits about him to snatch her hand, gripping it tightly to stop her from doing it. "Protect the child," he rasped, reaching beneath the collar of his padded shirt, pulling out the mythosaur necklace she had seen before. Ripping it off his neck, he placed it in her hand. "You  _ are  _ Mandalorian," he insisted, wishing he had more to say, that his head wasn't such a painful mess that he could tell her what he really felt.

"She's refusing to leave you," Cara translated. " _ I _ refuse too."

"Go," he hissed. "Your duty is to the child before me. Our mission..."

"She said because her helmet was removed, she is no longer Mandalorian. Gods damn it Mando, she's refusing to leave you," Cara's voice cracked and even if he couldn't see her, he thought he heard tears erring.

"The Creed," he gritted out.

"Can the droid heal him?" Greef suggested.

"Cara take her and the child-" Din insisted, the door flying open opposite them. He could make out the red-striped suit of an incinerator trooper, holding a large flamethrower. Nix took one look and without thinking, threw herself down on him. In that brief moment, he could hear her sniffling, her soft crying amongst all the mayhem. "I'll hold them off. You have to go," he whispered to her, feeling almost gutted as he told her these words.

But that wouldn't even happen. Flames billowed toward them, offering the death that they knew would come. Nix didn't move, pressed against his beskar with her head down, resigned to her death in his arms. The heat was palpable, but it didn't reach them. Instead, it hit an invisible forcefield, the child standing before them, twisting his claws as he focused. After an agonizingly long minute, the fire combusted back in the direction it had come from. The trooper was scorched to oblivion and the child fell to the ground, unconscious.

The grate dropped behind them. 

Cara came into view, grabbing the sobbing Nix by her fur scruff, ripping her away from him. Her dark eyes were watery, but turned toward the droid. "Bring him with us," she demanded, scooping up the child.

"I will," the droid promised.

Din closed his eyes, imagining Nix's face. Once the others had gone down through the grate, he opened his eyes back up to stare at the droid. "Kill me."

"I have been reprogrammed. I am now a nurse droid rather than a killer," IG-11 retorted sternly.

Din laughed at this, having not believed in Kuiil's programming. Now the Ugnaught was dead because of him. 

"Allow me to remove your helmet," the droid reached for him. 

"No," he growled, pointing his blaster toward the droid. "No living thing has seen my face since I put this helmet on."

"I am not living," the droid pointed out.

He grit his teeth, closing his eyes again, thinking of Nix and the child. Could he really die right now? Could he really leave them both? His fingers loosened on his blaster and he nodded reluctantly. IG-11 reached forward and disengaged his helmet, spraying his injured head with a bacta reagent. Only a few moments later, did the edge of his pain begin receding. The droid didn't waste time, hauling him up to his feet after placing the helmet back on. 

Staggering through the tunnels, those that were unfamiliar to him, he limped against the droid. Both Mandalorians had been unmasked today, but the female's had been observed by living people. Rounding a turn, the others were trotting uncertainly ahead, Nix writhing in Cara's stern grasp like an animal. 

Cara turned, dropping the petite woman when she saw that he was hobbling toward them. Nix landed, her boots spraying water as she recovered and craned her neck back. She kicked off, sprinting toward him, colliding with him so hard that their beskar heartplate sang melodically at being reunited. Groaning, the droid was the only thing that steadied him, his body still aching, but... he didn't mind her fussing.

"Careful, I'm getting old," he complained tightly.

_ 'You're not that old,'  _ she managed after looking up at him.

"Not as old as you, apparently."

"Not that I don't like watching a heartwarming reunion, but the Imps are still skulking around," Greef drawled, breaking them apart. 

Nix shouldered him, taking him off the droid to bring him forward. She was sturdy, despite her height, and more than willing to be close to him after their brush with death. He knew she wanted to yell at him, to portray how vexed she was, but given how she was helping him walk... her hands were preoccupied.

"Do you remember the way?" Greef asked anxiously.

"I haven't been down here from this path. We used the entrance from the marketplace," he admitted, taking a bit of his weight off of Nix as the bacta infusion continued to clarify his thoughts. "This way, I think."

The sewers were a labyrinth, but he was able to adjust the path based on where he thought the town was above them. Eventually, they crossed the symbol for the covert, causing him to catch his breath. Thank the Maker. Motioning for them to keep close, he continued, this time quicker, and without assistance. In the distance, he heard the metallic song of the forge, which drove him with more persistence. Their freedom was dangling before them.

But when he stepped into the common area, his blood ran cold and his heart stopped. Piled in front of them were dozens of sets of beskar. There was silence. Even the forge had stopped as he bent down, kneeling before the skeletons of his comrades. Nix was beside him, her shaking hands tentatively reaching out. She hadn't known them, but she deserved to. Now she never would.

"Did you do this?" Din asked Kreef quietly, lifting up the helm of a Mandalorian he had known quite well.

"W-what?" Karga was just as perturbed or at least pretending to seem that way. "My mercenaries melted away after you two left! I didn't have the firepower to even attempt going after the rest of the Mandalorians."

A figure approaching, pushed a repulsorlift in front of her, picking up more pieces of discarded beskar. "He speaks the truth," the armorer vouched, loading up the mine lift. "After the Tribe assisted in your escape, the Empire arrived and slaughtered those who remained. We knew what might happen if we betrayed ourselves. And we chose this path willingly."

She turned away, returning up the steps and toward the glowing hearth that belonged to the forge. Naturally, they gravitated after her, watching as she placed the armor into the forge to reduce it to liquid beskar. 

"Come with us," Din said, unable to let the last member of his Tribe slip away. 

"My place is here. I will not abandon it until I have salvaged what remains," the armorer announced sternly. Her head turned, glancing over at Nix. "The assassin has grown back into her skin, it would seem. Tell me, how does her training fare?"

Nix looked at him, silence boiling between them, the unspoken event of her helmet being removed set between them. "She requires no more training. She is Mandalorian," he answered.

"Then..." the armorer was very quiet when she spoke this time. "Has she earned her armor?"

"Yes," he paused. "But she is not Ch'ot G'evoti."

"No?" the armorer turned toward a cache. "What is she?"

"A Valkyrie."

"A Valkyrie," the armorer chuckled. "A name few know, but... they worked with Mandalorians against an ancient enemy. The name they chose, the legends say they are winged battle maidens who take the souls of the dead to the next life. Many Valkyries did the same for brothers and sisters long past. Now, one is amongst our ranks, a befitting place." Turning around, she held up shining golden-red beskar. From the remnants of the beskar in the covert, the armorer had crafted Nix's armor, aware that she would return one day. "And now, she will wear those souls as an homage to her lineage past and her lineage now."

Nix stiffened, conflicted by what was about to happen, but he only stared. Even if her helmet had been removed, he knew this was right. She hadn't lived the Creed as long as he had, but he knew the helmet would no longer have the same connotations to her as it had before. The beskar itself had been earned before their return there. Those that had removed the helmet were also dead.

Her armor was placed on her, the pauldrons, the cuisses, the greaves, and vambraces. Glistening with the same, rose gold glare, she was a burnished vision. Leveling her chin, she moved with slight trepidation, her visor turning toward his to search for confirmation that this was the right thing to do. He nodded.

"Where is the Asset that caused so much strife?" the armorer asked them, stepping away from Nix once all the beskar had been put into place. 

Turning toward IG-11, he picked up the child, his bones still aching. Moving with slight delay, he showed the small baby to the armorer. "He is the one who saved me from the mudhorn."

"It looks so helpless. Is it injured?" the armorer remarked.

"He is not injured, just... exhausted. He is able to move objects with his mind. That is how he protected me from the mudhorn."

She cocked her head, turning back to her forge. "I am familiar with such legends... Between Mandalore The Great and an ancient order of sorcerers."

"Is... he an enemy, then?" Din inquired, not certain how to feel about that. Until now, the child had done nothing but implore them and help on numerous occasions.

"It's kind were enemies, but this individual is not," she revealed cryptically. "By the Creed, seeing as you no longer have an apprentice, he is a foundling.  _ Your  _ foundling."

"He's too weak to survive training," Din protested. It had been a year and the baby had barely grown.

"Yes, I agree."

"Then... I must find the enemy sorcerers to return him too?" his tone was exasperated at the idea of it. 

"This is the Way," she agreed, turning toward the others she had ignored until this point. "You must lead the group. Take them through the tunnel down to the left. It will lead you to a lava river that leads out to the surface," and then back to him, but also regarding Nix. "You must leave in order to protect the foundling until it comes of age. This is the Way." She stepped toward her workbench, pouring a vat of beskar into a mold. "You have earned your signet. You both have."

The armorer picked up one sigil, pausing at Din first to begin applying it to his right pauldron. "This is the sigil of the phoenix. Signifying the rebirth of your partner and your own changes throughout your life. It is a sigil of hope, renewal, resurrection, and grace. Even after the worst moments in your life, you can rise from the ashes again. No matter the costs, fight on until the end."

"I will wear it with honor," he promised her, glancing down at the mark upon his pauldron, crest of the long necked bird, wings spread, long tails splaying beneath it as it flew. Even when he had not seen it, the armorer had known a year ago that this would be the path they took.

She moved to Nix next, emblazoning her new golden pauldron with the same clan as he. There was no rebuff or declination. Did this mean that they would remain together? Part of him believed so after her refusal to leave him in the cantina. 

"You now are both a clan. The Phoenix Clan," the armorer announced. "Have you trained in the method of the Rising Phoenix?"

"As a child," he assured her.

"Then you must give this last lesson to your old apprentice as well," she stepped away, revealing two shiny beskar jetpacks. Helping Nix strap hers on, she placed the other in the young woman's hands. "Carry this until he is well enough to use it. I advise not utilizing the jetpack until you are properly trained, else it shall not listen to your orders."

Nix gave a stern, but affirming nod.

Noise echoed at the end of the conclave's entrance, IG-11 turning around to investigate. Blaster shots reverberated in the hall.

"Go. Be safe," the armorer turned back to her forge, kneeling in front of it and crossing her hammer with her axe. 

Nix nudged him, leading him away with her arms laden with his jetpack. Sparing one glance down at her, he felt his heart tug, as if fingers were gripping it tightly, causing it to burn. Maybe his head was still ailing him, but even without her helmet removed, he thought that the golden silhouette of her was graceful and striking. Though a darker thought pressed him. A thought of how her helmet *had* been removed and he had lied for her.

Following the directions given by the armorer, the end of the hallway opened up to a lava river. A ferry was crusted to the dock, black rock keeping it tethered to its spot. Greef made a futile attempt to dislodge it with his pistol, but it was Cara's heavy blaster that managed to release it from the dock.

They boarded, the ferry droid, some sort of R-unit, began chirping animatedly. He was too exhausted to care much for it, to be bothered by the incessant questions that it was asking. 

"What does it want?" Cara asked.

"It's asking where we want to go," IG-11 translated.

"Downriver toward the lava flats," Karga directed.

Nix stood at the bow, gazing over as they listed slowly down the molten river. She raised her hand, just as they caught sight of daylight from the tunnel exit.  _ 'There's a platoon of troopers around the tunnel,'  _ she signed, pressing her fingers back to helmet to make closer observations.

Cara turned to the droid. "Stop the boat," she demanded.

The droid did nothing.

Jutting her gun beneath the droid's head, she blew it off. The boat still did not stop. 

"I can eliminate the enemies, allowing you to escape," IG-11 announced, staring in the same direction as Nix, while they continued to prowl forward.

"We are outgunned. You wouldn't last at all," Din retorted wearily.

"I can self-destruct. My base protocol does not allow capture."

"Your first protocol is to protect the child. If you helped shoot us out-"

"Chances of success are low."

Grinding his teeth, the droid picked up the child and offered it to them. "If you were to look after the child, I can default to my secondary command. Then, you all shall live and I will have served my purpose in protecting the child."

"We need you. You can't die-"

"I was never alive," IG-11 stared him down, reminding him of the words it had spared back in the cantina. It had been the only reason why he'd allowed it to remove his helmet. He hadn't even allowed Nix to do it and she was the only living person who brushed close to earning that luxury. "It seems... you are sad."

"I am not," he gritted out. "Yes... I will watch the child."

IG-11 gave a stout nod, stepping past Nix, and out into the lava. Slowly, it walked through the molten, ever slowing as it began to break down its every fiber. Doubt began to press him, as he wondered if the droid would even make it to the mouth of the tunnel before succumbing to the lava. Eventually, it did. Stopping, it stated that its manufacturer's protocol would not allow it to be captured, the red heart - its core - glowing hotly, before imploding. 

A moment passed and Nix turned,  _ 'They're dead.' _

Out of the tunnel, the afternoon sky spanned above them, the moment of reprieve short lived as a TIE fighter strafed into view. Moff Gideon. Greef's excitement was replaced with horror as the Imp skimmed over heard, aiming toward them, but missing, requiring a complete reroute to make another drive. 

"Can the baby crash it with his magic powers?" Karga asked anxiously.

Nix shook her head, observing the sleeping child in Din's arms. 

"Here," he reached forward, trading her his jetpack for the child, shouldering it on before igniting. She signed something at him, but not before he'd lanced up into the air. Nowhere near as fast the fighter, he waited until the second pass came, and aimed his grappling hook toward it. The rope sailed, spinning around the wing in success, jerking him along like a fish on a hook. Jarred, it took him a moment to get his bearings before engaging the hydraulics on his grappling hook, tugging him forward in tandem with the assistance of his jetpack.

Gideon realized he was on the ship as he gripped the wing, reaching to his belt for a detonator. He spun the ship, nearly knocking Din loose in the process. Instead, he lost the detonator in his hand as he slammed his palm back against the edge of the wing, clinging on for dear life. When the ship stopped spinning, he removed another detonator and slammed it on the left wing, releasing his slipping grasp from the TIE fighter. 

Pressing his vambrace, the bomb exploded, causing the ship to list down rapidly, where it crashed into a mountainside. Igniting the thrusters on his jetpack, he sailed back down toward his companions, the humming familiarity of his training still in his bones. 

"My, my, my," Karga applauded as his feet touched back down on solid ground. "It would seem that your bounty rates have just soared up... Well, considering the fact that your rate  _ also  _ includes a second Mandalorian, unless I'm wrong in my assumptions."

Din glanced toward Nix, who was still holding the sleeping child. 

Greef didn't give him a second to answer, steering him away from the women. "As far as both Dune and I are concerned, her helmet was never removed," the man insisted quietly. "But... if I ever had managed to see the face beneath, I would say you're one lucky man."

Din brushed his hand off. "We cannot join the Guild right now," he turned back to look at Nix as she spoke to Cara. "The child is our priority now."

"Ah well, I regret to hear that, but the two of you are welcome anytime. When you've found the kid a home, if you're not too busy making a home of your own, you might return and be my top hunters," Greef suggested slyly. "You two will have the pick of all quarries."

Rejoining the women, Din turned toward Nix. "It's time to go."

She gave a resigned nod, glancing up toward Cara.

"Take care of him," the shock trooper insisted, her dark eyes sweeping toward him. "Take care of the both of them."

* * *

**A.N.** A.N. I took a bit of a different turn on their sigil, since Din does decline the mudhorn originally. Fixating on his relationship with Nix, I decided to swap the sigil, since Din does change a lot over his year with her, having his own harrowing/rebirth. The sigil would look something like [this](https://ih1.redbubble.net/image.387320061.2033/pp,840x830-pad,1000x1000,f8f8f8.u1.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning for y'all - it's about to get real... REAL. The turn the story is going to take may not be favorable (and also I love drama), but I felt that there'd be a lot of emotions to explore between both of them... Resolutions and ghosts that need chasing before everything can be perfect.


	12. Nix's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions run high, but perhaps not in the right direction. Nix goes to find out about her past and finds more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter a couple of times. Originally, I had anticipated making it happier, but it didn't sit right with me. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I am so thankful for what wonderful readers this story has garnered. You guys really inspire me to keep updating asap.

She was trying to wrap her head around what the kriff had just happened on Nevarro.

Back on the  _ Razor Crest _ she was checking on the child after he had defended them from the incinerator trooper. Just the thought of what had happened in the cantina made her close her eyes in bitterness. Her helmet had been removed by the stormtroopers and everyone had gotten a good look at her face. The realization hurt, especially when Mando - no, his name was Din Djarin - saw her face, but then refused her insistence on seeing his to help with his wound. Her emotions had overwhelmed her in that moment, unable to abandon the man she comprehended she had fallen in love with. This wasn't a crush. She'd known it when she saw how hurt he was, her heart squeezing painfully, panic leaching into her very essence as she flailed frantically and he hadn't been able to understand her. She had joked about it often to herself, how this relationship was just a partnership, and how he thought little more of it. But… seeing him injured changed her mind. She had been willing to die right beside him.

None of the shit about being a Valkyrie mattered. That life was gone, forgotten, and even the enticing suggestion that she could relearn it wasn't worth it. That life ended half a century ago, she wasn't about to alienate the friends she had in order to get answers. Even her voice wasn't that important. Din, Cara, the child... they were all important to her. Whoever Loki was, Nix would probably never know at this point. They'd killed Moff Gideon, along with her chances of understanding what Valkyries truly were. 

"Is he asleep?" Din's voice broke through her thoughts, turning her head up.

Nix nodded slowly. _ 'Why did you lie for me? You lied to the Armorer.' _

Din Djarin considered her. Maker, it was so weird finally knowing his name and then wondering if it was alright to consider him as that. Then again, she rarely called him anything, since she couldn't speak out loud. "You're Mandalorian," he said gently, the tone of his voice so strange and unfamiliar. 

_ 'But the Creed,' _ she insisted, feeling wholehearted uncomfortable with the fact that she'd shoved it back on and accepted the beskar armor.  _ It was wrong. _ If she felt this, she had no doubt it was lingering in the back of his mind too.

"Nix," he insisted, now more forceful and deep. "The Creed states that you cannot don it in the same manner. It's rather... ambiguous about the rest. Most just assume..." he trailed off, not finishing his sentence. Most assumed that it meant you lost your title as Mandalorian and could no longer put it back on. It was the greatest dishonor.

_ 'Then I shouldn't wear it unless we're working,'  _ Nix considered, reaching up to remove it.

He bonked it right back on her head before she had the chance to take it off. "No."

_ 'But you just said that I cannot don it in the same manner. We're in the same clan now. I shouldn't wear it except to mask my face from those who haven't seen it,'  _ Nix elaborated, spelling out her thought process on the whole ordeal. Tilting her head slightly, she smiled beneath the mask.  _ 'Why? Hate my face that much?' _

"No," he repeated. "We should continue as before-"

_ 'How?'  _ she crossed her arms, lifting one hand to speak. _ 'Are you just going to ignore everything that happened on Nevarro?' _ She'd literally cried on him, thinking that he was going to die, trying to shield him from the fire. If that hadn’t moved Din, she didn’t know what could at this point. In fact, it was rather irritating that he wasn’t acknowledging it.

"Nix!" he hissed, his modulator portraying the deep breaths he was trying to take and manage. "Nevarro was... emotional. Both of us acted on impulse."

_ 'Impulse?' _ That stung. Wincing slightly, she reached up and ripped her helmet off to spite him. The air of the  _ Razor Crest  _ was cool, her eyes adjusting quickly to the lighting.  _ 'Here, take this back then,' _ she pulled the necklace he had thrust into her hand as he had been withering away before her eyes. Scrunching her nose, she thought disdainfully of the tears she had shed over him. _ 'Because apparently I was too hysteric to think clearly; to  _ **_worry_ ** _ about you when I thought you were going to force me to abandon you.' _

Din just kept his T-visor leveled with her eyes, not bothering to look at the necklace that she offered him. Her cheeks burned, maybe in fury, maybe in embarrassment, that he could finally read her face. 

_ 'I can't do this,'  _ she told him, throwing the necklace at him.  _ 'I can't fucking do this. Take me back to Nevarro.'  _ She'd become a bounty hunter on her own. Din could take care of the child. But if he couldn't come to terms with what had happened on Nevarro, it would never happen.

The necklace pinged against his chest, falling to the ground as he continued to stare at her. Her frustration rose, teeth grinding in exasperation as she set her helmet down on the storage crate. 

_ 'What!? Why won't you say anything?!'  _ Pressing her eyes shut, she pressed her fingers to her brow, trying to reason with herself. Maybe she had read this all wrong, believing that there might be something between them. Omera's face seared in the back of her mind. Why did she think she could compare to that fucking pretty widow? No, she was just a mess, barely even a Mandalorian after those asshole Imps had ripped her helmet off. Now, Din wouldn't talk to her. She just wanted acknowledgement, maybe even confirmation that what she felt wasn't misplaced. Obviously, she'd gotten in over her head, thinking too highly of herself, thinking that  _ somehow  _ the shiny, buckethead Din Djarin might have feelings for her too. He'd only been nice when he was dying.

When she opened her eyes, he wasn't there. 

She had scars and knew she had endured many injuries over the course of her life, even if she couldn't remember what had caused them. None of those hurt as much as this denial, this blatant slap in the face as she left herself open and vulnerable. Drawing a shuddering breath, she glanced back toward her jetpack and knew they still hadn't left Nevarro's atmosphere. There had been no training, but there was no way in the galaxy she could remain here after what he'd just done.

Fine.  _ Fine.  _

If he didn't want her there, then she wouldn't stay. Standing up, she shoved her helmet on, gritting her teeth before shouldering the pack. There were things she could do. Places she could go. Ghosts to chase. She had put them all on the backburner to be beside him, but obviously that wasn't important. Din Djarin was capable enough on his own to find the child a home. Her fingers grazed the dock door, turning around to see the pram. 

She fluttered over, bending down over the drowsy child, still weak from the battle in the cantina.  _ Goodbye little one. This will likely be the last time I see you,  _ removing her helmet for a farewell, she bent down and kissed his wrinkled brow, a single, hot teardrop splashing on his forehead. He opened his eyes, large and brown, gazing up with that strange, cryptic wisdom that bespoke the years he'd truly been alive. Funny how the both of them were so old and yet so young. His hands reached up, plying against her throat, a hum echoing. 

"Ret'urcye mhi," (Goodbye; maybe we'll meet again) she spoke audibly, the baby's hand falling away, the word on her lips dying without the power of his magic. Startled, she blinked away more tears, but slid her helmet back on, turning back to the dock. She opened the hatch, the same one they'd use on the prison ship, jumping down, swinging it shut behind her before she latched it. 

Wind whipped around her, fingers falling away as she let her body relax. Sliding through the sky, she let her emotions slip amongst the clouds, before igniting her jetpack, sailing the rest of the way, back toward where she had left Cara and Karga. Her landing was less than stellar, having never used a jetpack before, but she managed to do it, stumbling through the dirt, coming down hard on her knees.

Hissing a breath, she walked toward the town, which was still in shambles from the fall out with the Empire. A few other Guild members had returned, helping clean up the corpses and gore. Cara was amongst them, bending over and helping assemble the bodies in a pile, turning her head at the glint of the golden beskar.

"Nix?" she called, absolutely taken aback that the Mandalorian was there. "Something wrong with the ship?"

She shook her head, swallowing hard. _ 'It's me.' _

Cara's brows pinched together, before realization dawned on her face. She glanced back up toward the sky, as if she could see the  _ Razor Crest _ zipping away. Wiping her palms on her trousers, the shock trooper came forward. "No, Nix there's not-"

_ 'I made assumptions I shouldn't have made. They're better off without me,' _ Nix retorted, rebuffing her attempt to embrace her. Turning away she set her chin stubbornly.  _ 'I intend on investigating Arvala-7 further, including taking Kuiil's body back to his farm. But first... I would like to help here.' _

Distractions. Those worked best. Part of her, a small, tiny fragment of her, was hoping that Din would turn around the  _ Razor Crest _ and come and retrieve her. But those were the idle thoughts of a hopeless romantic and it didn't happen. Instead, Nix helped repair the town and the Guild's cantina. The New Republic touched base to ask about what happened with the Empire, rewarding Cara with a shiny badge to name her as Marshall. For her and Greef, things seemed to be falling into place and going the right way. For Nix... well, she had an emptiness in her heart, wondering if Din and the child were safe.

She took a few pucks with other bounty hunters to earn enough credits to get a small ship of her own. The missions went one of two ways - either she was carrying the entire bounty on her back  _ or _ her partner managed to get themself killed. She would have preferred solo missions if she had a ship to go out on her own, but had to suffer the incompetence of green bounty hunters who didn't know the slightest distinction from their ass to their elbow. In moments like that, she thought about how effortless and smooth her work had been beside Din. Kriff, she tried so often to not think about him and yet she did it at least a handful of times a day.

Now, she had a ship, thought albeit small and little more than a starfighter, it would do. She was able to retrieve Kuiil's body and put him carefully into storage before embarking for Arvala-7. Cara had been worried about her. About the way the Nix seemed to rarely talk or even joke. There was a disconcerting silence that hung over her, unlike before. There was the shadow of her doubts and the pain of rejection that still haunted her. She scolded herself, telling herself that she should have never let herself make that sort of attachment without making certain it was reciprocated. 

The moisture farm was relatively untouched, though the paddock was vacant of blurggs. Chuckling silently to herself, she recalled how she had once been frightened of them. Now, she felt as hollow as the training yard that Kuiil had once spent time with them. Retrieving his body, she brought the swaddled form beneath the wind turbine, digging a ditch for his body, before burying it. She marked his name in the metal of the turbine, sitting vigil for a few hours, thanking the wise Ugnaught for his kindness. 

Around her, his farm would be looted and left to another who might make better use of it. Not that she was a thief or wanted to scavenge the bones of his home, but Nix knew there might be things around there that could be of use. Sighing, she pushed herself to her feet and began looking around Kuiil's home. He acquired many odds and ends in his travels - tokens, trash, discarded mechs... He was almost a Jawa in his own right, though he didn't steal.

Sifting through the piles, she saw the glint of gold, which was uncommon amongst the rust. Thumbing it, she pulled out a strange compass-like coin the size of her palm. She had seen this before. It was Vegvisir - a Valkyrie compass. Thumbing a groove, she popped it open, the lens cracked. Didn't seem it would work as she rubbed the glass, catching her palm against an uneven edge, cutting it. 

Gasping slightly, she drew her hand back, pressing her palm against her leg. The compass puttered, starting up, illuminating brightly around where the blood had seeped into the device. An arrow appeared, pointing north west. Sitting, she considered her options. What should she do? She had come to Arvala-7 to find the lab she had woken up in. Would this lead her there?

_ Better just find out, _ she decided, gathering her things and locking up the farm to start after the arrow. Nostalgia hit her as she walked, remembering how her feet had been to soil when she carved this path before. The pain in those dry, cracked soles as she stumbled over the hot, acrid clay and sand. The compass led her hours away from the moisture farm, into the mountains, and beneath ominous passes. 

There was activity up ahead, causing her to circle around cautiously. Up on the rise, she laid prone to observe what was going on down below. The Empire. Stormtroopers were milling around, the mouth of a cave spread wide in a grin, nestled within an alcove in the mountains that wouldn't be easy to access unless you knew it was there. This was the lab. But Moff Gideon was dead. Why would they be snooping around the bones of the Valkyrie prison?

Glancing back at her compass, it pinged in that direction. She recalled that Gideon said that one of her sisters had lived and if this compass was tracking her blood... Maybe said sister was still inside the lab. Nix had been incredibly weak when she had woken, so it was possible that the other Valkyrie was also indisposed.  _ I have to save her. I can make her Mandalorian too... maybe. _

Slipping the compass into her pocket, she counted the retinue of guards, and watched as their shifts changed over. The convoy here wasn't that big, most likely because they weren't expecting any fuss from the locals. A dozen total, only 6 standing guard at a time. The cover of night would be her best opportunity to strike.

"Don't move," a voice snicked behind her, a gun cocking against her head.

How in kriff's name-

"Vaii vaabir gar ve'ganir ibac beskar'gam?" (Where did you get that armor?) it was a feminine tone, but warm and sultry, speaking clearly in Mando'a. 

Catching her breath, Nix knew that she had only one chance to try and explain herself. She couldn't talk, so she had to find a way to get her hands in front of her even if she were laying on her belly. One, two, three! She rolled, turning and grappling for the blaster, feeling a shot ping right of her beskar. It bloody hurt. The beskar would block the round from injuring her, but the initial pressure wasn't buffed. A white, grey, and blue Mandalorian stood over her as Nix knocked the blaster from her hands, eyes widening as she saw two others behind her.

Quickly, she signed,  _ hoping  _ that one of them would understand and not shoot her dead.  _ 'Mute!' _

She was slammed back against the ground, moaning silently as she expected they were going to end her right there. 

"Wait," a man behind her sidled up. "I think... I think she signed something with her hands. Let her go."

The woman Mandalorian released her, allowing for Nix to greedily suck in air.  _ 'This is my beskar. I'm mute.' _

"She's Mandalorian," the man confirmed. 

"It's rather new," the woman remarked, picking her blaster back up. "What's your name?"

_ 'Nix.' _

"Nix of... Clan Phoenix? That's a Phoenix isn't it?" she pointed to her pauldron.

A nod.

"You here to find out what's in that lab?" the female asked her.

_ 'I know what's in that lab,' _ Nix retorted.

"She knows what's in the lab," the man translated.

"Do you? Care to enlighten us?"

She considered it. While the Creed dictated that all Mandalorians could be trusted, she didn't know what they were doing here.  _ 'Only if I know your true intentions for being here.' _

"She will not tell us unless we say why we are here," the man told the woman, who seemed to be the leader.

"That is our business."

_ 'And then so is mine.' _

"She's not budging," the man chuckled.

"We're here to extract an ally," the woman betrayed albeit grudgingly. 

_ 'Ally?' _ she glanced back toward the entrance, wondering if these Mandalorians had learned about her sister somehow and wanted to enlist her help.  _ 'Is the ally you speak of a Valkyrie?' _

"She knows about them," the male said coolly.

"How do you know of them?"

_ 'I am one,' _ Nix answered.

"You're a Valkyrie?"

Nix nodded.  _ 'I returned here to see if my sister was still alive. I'm afraid I have no memories of my past life and thus became Mandalorian.' _

"Became Mandalorian..." the man paused, cocking his head at her. "You're a foundling... but an adult foundling." The manner in which he said it led Nix to believe that adult foundlings were uncommon, but not unheard of.

_ 'This is the Way,' _ she hoped that would speak enough.

Instead, he recoiled. "Bo-Katan, this one if one of the Children of the Watch."

"Ah, for religious zealots, they are quite surprising in their methods. They must not have known what she was," Bo-Katan retorted, removing her helmet to reveal a handsome, middle aged woman with short coppery hair. Her green eyes settled sharply on Nix. "I am Bo-Katan Kryze, with me is Axe Woves and Koska Reeves. It would seem that we have a similar ambition. To see the Valkyrie inside of that lab released."

_ 'To what effect?' _ Nix asked warily, wondering why she had removed her mask.  _ 'Why have you removed your helmet?' _

"Right," Bo-Katan hissed after the translation. "We're Mandalorian, born on Mandalore. The whole... helmet thing... is just something the Children of the Watch follow. No other Mandalorians are so attached to their helmets. It's a way to indoctrinate members, to put aside attachments such as seeing another's face. It's kriffing weird."

Nix sat quietly, wondering if Din knew about any of this. Rather than dwell on him again she placed her fist in her palm. _ 'I've been watching them for the better part of the day-'  _ she started, recounting her observations. Originally, she had been worried about making such a fight by herself, but with the addition of the three other Mandalorians, she was suddenly more confident in their prospects. 

They decided that two would be utilized as a distraction. Bo-Katan and Koska would draw attention to the front, where Nix and Axe would continue inside to try and make a speedy extraction. The hope was that when Nix removed her helmet, that the other Valkyrie would recognize her and be more willing to go with them. While there weren't a lot of Imps there now, who knew if a dropship was waiting nearby. Better to get in and out as swiftly as possible, rather than risking being pinned with reinforcements rolled in. 

It was go time.

Bo-Katan and Koska unleashed hell, drawing the attention of the posted guards away from the doors in a firefight. Nix slid down from the ledge, followed closely by Woves. Spinning her heel around the corner, her helmet quickly adjusted to the light, revealing the cool, grey laboratory that she had remembered. Yet, it was different. Machines were whirling, power had been restored, and the dust had been chased away. 

Past the first set of doors, horror consumed her as she stared between the cryo chambers. A chamber that she had fallen out of and then made her way lethargically toward the surface. No one was inside the chambers any longer, instead enormous glass cylindrical vats filled with clear liquid held women. Her fingers pressed to one, staring into the copper countenance of withering women, white tattoos lancing across her nude back. Nix knew her. 

Heil.

Turning away, they continued between the rooms, her stomach twisting as brief, disjunct memories began to pelt her. Screams. It had hurt so badly. A scalpel digging into her arms, cutting her muscle open, pushing it apart as blood ran down and splattered against the cold, steel gurney. There were no painkillers, not to dull the edge of each methodical movement. 

_ "We'll have to do something about that mouth of yours. It's more annoying than the others. They don't scream. Not like you, L0-K1." _

"What are you doing?" Woves hissed ahead of her as she stared at the metal table.

Shaking her head, she followed after him, fingers quaking as she held her bow. They entered a backroom where a woman was manacled to the wall. Her body was frail, slender, emaciated. Nix knew how that felt, what it was like to be little more than a pile of bones in a thin layer of skin. Long, golden blonde locks fell about her hips, the thin medical dress hiding little of her pronounced hip bones. Nix pushed past Woves, who stared, disturbed by the state of the Valkyrie.

She looked dead.

Removing her helmet, Nix fell in front of her, pushing her dry hair out of her face. Gaunt and ghostly, she felt a thin pulse beneath her fingers, tracing a line against the woman's cheekbone. Freya. This was Freya. 

She gasped, opening brilliantly sky blue eyes to gaze down. Her cracked lips parted, bleeding slightly as she looked upon Nix. "Loki," she whispered, pressing her brow to hers. "Stars up above, I never thought I'd see another sister. Now... now, I can go happily."

Go? Nix shook her head. ' _ We'll take you. You can heal. We heal fast.' _

"Oh," Freya realized, watching her hands. "Doctor Mendellson took your voice. I forgot about that. I wish I could hear your voice... It should... still be here."

_ 'It doesn't matter?' _

"Doesn't matter? Loki, your voice... your quips and remarks - you were the only thing that kept me alive in this abysmal hell. You fought back tooth, claw, and word by word, jab by jab-" she coughed, her body trembling. "So much so that they put it in a box. I would have just assumed that they'd cut your vocal chords out, but I think Mendellson wanted to save it. Maybe to torture you in the end, give your voice back, and hear your misery from your own lips.... You're wearing beskar."

_ 'I am Mandalorian now. I... do not remember much of our past life.' _

"The Mandalorians were always good friends to us," Freya shuddered. "There is... a relic room here. You do not remember it, but it's the room where they repurposed us after breaking us mentally. Our weapons, armor,  _ your voice _ , and maybe even your memories should be there. I do not believe that the Imperials have discovered it just yet. They were only able to tap into the record system and view the journals left by the doctor."

_ 'What about you?'  _ Nix persisted.

"I... maybe, I will survive, but I doubt it."

_ 'You will survive.' _

"I will take her, go find this room that she's describing, but be quick about it," Woves retorted, having heard the conversation. He worked at the cuffs, pulling Freya down gently. She looked so breakable, as if just breathing on her would shatter her bones.

Standing, Nix put her helmet back on, aware that she had to go down below and take what was rightfully hers. Rightfully Freya's too. Gripping her bow, she trudged down the halls, blistering memories that had been repressed surfacing. She bit her tongue in her fervor, remembering the twists and turns of the lab. After all, she'd seen it once before, but rarely got to walk it herself. Finally, she faced the dead end, the smooth wall that barely hinted of a groove.

Removing a detonator from her belt, she slammed it where the door should have been and hid around the corner, setting off the bomb. The ground rattled, the mountain above moaning as if she'd also ruined its integrity. Coming back around, the mouth had opened to reveal a dim light down a set of stairs. Someone was there.

Who? It had been over 50 years. Who could be there? Grinding her teeth, she sprinted down, turning her bow on the first bit of movement she caught.

"Ah, I knew you'd come Loki," the voice purred, a breathtaking woman leaning against a table. "Was only a matter of time." She had dark skin, her lashes long and pronounced, a flat nose, and a strong jawline. Her hair was braided against her head, falling against the soft leather armor she wore and an eyepatch covered one eye; Odin.

There was a strange bit of tension, confusion as she glanced toward Odin, wondering why this didn't feel right.

"Moff Gideon informed me that you'd thrown your lot in with the Mandalorians. Din Djarin, I think it was? Certainly not the ones you're here with today," Odin continued.

_ 'You spoke to Moff Gideon?' _

"Of course, right after Djarin crashed his TIE fighter. He was a bit nonplussed about the entire situation," Odin shrugged nonchalantly.

After... Her heart clenched, realizing what this meant.  _ Gideon was alive.  _ They had assumed he had died in the crash, but hadn't gone to check. Oh no. No, no, no, no. The child wasn't safe. Din wasn't safe. They had no idea the Empire was still hunting them. 

"You seem surprised," Odin observed. "Although, it's difficult to say with the helmet on. Nor can you speak, which is a shame. I always loved your banter." She stood up, clutching a spear made of beskar. "He's offered us quite the position amongst the Empire. The ability to get back at the Republic.  _ Revenge _ ."

_ 'That Republic fell. This one is innocent to what happened here,'  _ Nix pointed out.

"It's still the Republic. And a new Jedi Order is being formed. The Jedi did this to us..." Odin reminded her.

_ 'They're all dead. Why harbor resentment when the people who did this to us are dead?' _

"Ah, Loki. Come now. Our calling has always been higher. Moff Gideon may think he is in control, but we both know that we could pluck his dreams right out of his fingers if we ever had the whim to."

_ 'What about Freya? Why was she still bound?' _

"Freya?" Odin laughed harshly. "Freya forgave the Jedi and refused to agree to work with Gideon. So, she remained where she was, just wasting away. I'd hate for the same to become of you."

_ 'Freya is wiser than you think,'  _ Nix answered sharply.  _ 'Gideon was going to kill a child. Do you see any honor in that?' _

"Honor?" Odin barked with amusement. "You speak of honor? Oh sweet, sweet child, you have forgotten so much. Why don't I show you?  _ Remind  _ you of what you were before all of this. You speak of honor and yet, you were the least honorable of us all, Loki."

Nix's head swept around, but not before she'd stepped into a trap. Her bow tumbled from her gloved fingers, bars lancing up around her in the center of the room, pinning her hands up and spreading her legs slightly. Odin drew forward, disengaging Nix's helmet to reveal her face. 

"This room used to be used to strip us of our power. With the Empire's assistance, I have repurposed it to remind us of who we are. I knew that there would be sisters who had difficulty coming out of cryo, such as yourself. Doctor Mendellson kept such great records... copies of our memories... all in little databases so that he might find out what made each of us tick. Honestly, I've been binging the memories of all of the sisters... even those that are no longer with us," she pressed her own vambrace, a helmet sliding down from the ceiling, adjusting it properly to come down over Nix's head. "Remember Loki. Open your eyes and remember who you were."

She screamed.

Images were forced into her head, images she had long forsaken and come to hate. Her birth, her growing amongst her sisters - beside Freya and Thor. Odin had always been older. Their mother, the leader, the original Valkyrie. But each girl was different and Loki had always been the quick one. Silent, fast, and deadly. Freya had been a better marksman for the front lines. Thor was the heavy blaster. Each one of them split their paths, going individual ways. Freya worked with the Mandalorians. Thor disappeared into the galaxy. And Loki joined the Assassin's Guild.

There were memories of her pucks, bounties, and assassinations. Most of it had been lonely, but there were a few redeeming moments when she met back with her sisters. She'd always been cynical, with a wry mouth. A trait that hadn't vanished even when she lost her memories. But it became worse after the incident. Loki had fallen in love with a target. To think that the jokester assassin could have a heart was... astonishing.

He'd lived on Alderaan and had seen her coming. Accepting his death with open arms, Loki hadn't been able to pull the trigger. There was no fun in this. Not that she had a shred of honor, but she found it amusing that he'd noticed her. So, she took him, deciding to turn him in rather than kill him. Only the ship had broken down on Tatooine and they'd been intercepted by Hutts. Both of them should have died, but he saved her when a blaster fell within grasping distance.

Loki left the Guild. Fled from it when she realized she couldn't turn in the man that had protected her, even though she had abducted him - he... understood. Good things didn't last. Especially not for a hardened assassin who had just thrown her lot in with a bounty. Even if he had saved her on Tatooine, he wasn't a fighter, and couldn't keep up with her, despite the training she tried to give him. It didn't work. He got in the way more than helped. But Loki didn't care. She'd already committed and would push her stubborn head through hell than go back on her word.

Odin found them. She thought that her mother would understand, that she would laugh at the silly danger they'd both endured. Instead, Odin called her weak and shot him. Shot  _ him  _ right in front of her. Valkyries needed no attachment aside from their own sisters. It made you weak and vulnerable. That was one thing the Jedi had gotten right.

After that, Loki became distant and cold. Watching her lover die in her arms by the hand of her kin. She didn't return to her sisters as she once did. Instead, she put her head down and returned to work, killing. Nothing brought pleasure. There was no satisfaction in anything. Be that money, the company of others, or luxuries. Loki simply existed to do nothing else other than kill. At least, until the Jedi had hunted them down and brought them to the lab on Arvala-7. 

She comprehended Odin's warning now, watching through her own eyes the atrocities and callousness that she treated people with. Loki had stopped caring after the death of Arwest. Life was cruel and there was no point in trying to evade this fact. Better to just show others how terrible the universe could be. Seeing this, the dishonor, the broken assassin... It hurt.  _ This wasn't her.  _

Until being captured by the Old Republic, Loki had cared little for anyone. Only to see Freya being tortured did her eyes open once again. There were few people that she still cared for and her closest sisters were amongst those. Thor was never captured, but Loki and Freya suffered together. Deflection was her best art, utilizing her sharp wit to help Freya smile through the pain. Even Odin had been silent in the lab, resigned to her fate, where Loki kicked and screamed the entirety of the time. Why give in? That's just what they wanted. Best to make it difficult every step of the way. 

Grinding her teeth, she saw the images of the experiments, the other Valkyries who were nearly stripped to the bone for science. Part of her wondered if the Jedi really knew what was happening there. Even if they were enemies, the Jedi that she had crossed never struck her as the type to allow such horrific experiments partake on sentient beings. They respected life. Even the Valkyries, Loki withstanding, saw the value in life. 

Odin watched. Odin, the original Valkyrie, watched her children die one by one. Doctor Mendellson took a dark satisfaction in forcing her to watch after plucking one of her brilliant eyes out from her head.  _ "Watch. Watch with that one last eye before I take everything from you. Then, I'll set your eyes up there on the mantle, to speak about how we unraveled your genome and created better Valkyries." _

But that never happened. Despite all the research that went into this, ripping them apart, and subjecting them to copious amounts of torture, the secret to their creation had been hidden. Perhaps Odin knew of it, as she was the original Valkyrie, but she did not speak. She only watched. Who created them? Loki didn't have an answer for that. She could only remember a planet very vaguely in her childhood in the warm mountains... a blue, blue sky - the verdant highlands rolling between the valleys. Skye. It had been Skye.

Gasping, her eyes fluttered open, and Odin continued to stand before her, waiting expectantly. The woman had watched her family perish at the hands of a psychotic doctor and assistants. She was mad, looking for a way to finally lash out after being woken again. The Old Republic had done this, so it was only logical for her to attach the current Republic. 

A slick sweat collected on her brow from the strain the memories brought her. But... even if Odin's purpose had been to awaken Loki, Nix still felt herself. The memories were there, but they weren't hers. Decisions had been made that Nix wouldn't have made. And while Nix could sympathize with Loki's fall from grace, there was a severe line between their beings. Nix wasn't Loki. Despite having her memories, despite retaining some of the same wry humor, despite looking like her...  _ she was not Loki.  _

"What did you think you would achieve from that?" her voice quavered from her chest, a sweet, light and melodic soprano. There was a grating rasp, the disrepair and lack of utilizing her vocal chords making it weak. It was startling hearing her voice for the first time, but... it wasn't Loki's voice. Loki's voice had been sultry and deep. Clearing her throat, her brows pulled together and Odin's lip curled.

"That's wrong," she muttered, turning around to a computer, typing frantically on the board. "That's not your voice. The kriffing thing-"

"I'm not Loki," Nix said lightly. "Hold on. Give me just a moment-" she cleared her throat animatedly. " _ How about now _ ?" she tried to mimic Loki's tenor, but her voice cracked instead.

" _ Shut up! _ " Odin whirled, her single eye stretching wide, sliding toward the beskar and the sigil on her pauldron. "Phoenix?" she snorted, leaning forward to graze her fingers of the steel. "Your vocal cords must have been damaged by whatever Mendellson did. Replacing them..."

"I'm not Loki," she repeated.

"You are Loki!" Odin roared furiously.

"Ok," Nix shrugged, rolling her eyes. Wasn't much she could do right now. She was royally fucked. However, there was a bit of satisfaction she could gain from messing with Odin as the woman's resolve began to crumble. "The Mandalorians say I've been reborn. Can't we go with that, you just release me, and we can call it a day?"

"You're not leaving," Odin informed her, turning back away from the computer as she picked up her beskar spear. "I'll imprint your memories on you again... Find a way to erase whatever  _ this  _ is you've become."

The cynical smile fell right off her face. Wipe her memory? Bile rose in the back of her throat, realizing that she'd forget about Din Djarin and her time beside him. The person she'd become - Nix would be gone. Her jaw locked and she began writhing, looking for a way to get herself out of this contraption.

"Or," a new voice rang with bright clarity. "You'll step back from her."

Unable to crane her head, she felt relief prickle over her skin as Bo-Katan and Koska entered the repurposing room. Weapons were raised, levied in Odin's direction. The Valkyrie snarled at them, but considered her position. Odin did not want her dead. She hadn't even been able to kill Freya. The fact that she hadn't wiped Freya's memories meant that she didn't know how to properly use the computer. 

"You'll step back unless you want me to run her through," Odin threatened, standing up straight, leveling her chin.

"Dalyc Kelir nayc kyr'amur ni," (She will not kill me) Nix told them in Mando'a, aware that it was unlikely that Odin spoke it. They may have worked alongside Mandalorians often, but Mando'a was not a language taught to outsiders.

Odin's eye snapped to her, observing the haughty smile that had unfolded across the auburnette's face. "Why? Why would you forsake me for  _ them _ ?"

"Because," Nix took a deep breath in. "I am Mandalorian."

Odin howled, driving past her and toward the two females in beskar. Her spear sang as it collided with Bo-Katan's vambrace. Koska fired, the Valkyrie pirouetting away from the bolts with feral, feline grace. She forced Bo-Katan back against the wall, but rather than take her chances against two Mandalorians in full beskar, she used the opportunity to sprint up the stairs and abandon her attempt. Fight to live another day. 

Koska followed after her, Bo-Katan stealing a few greedy breaths before padding over to the computer to figure out how to get Nix down. After a few terse minutes, the bars slid back into the ground and Nix fell down to her knees, beskar singing against the metal floor that she collided with. Rubbing her throat, she felt the tender chords were weak from use, but  _ kriff  _ was she happy to have her voice back. 

"We should go," Bo-Katan said sternly.

Nix placed her helmet back on. "Wait. This was an armory too. There should be relics of the Valkyries here," she said hoarsely, her voice pittering slightly as she went over the computer. The most useful thing about getting Loki's memories was the assembly of knowledge the original Valkyrie had on weapons and crafting. This computer was old compared to standards now, but Loki knew how to work it. Thumbing through it, she found the correct database.

A wall puffed, hissing old stale air, before sliding sideways to reveal an assembly of weapons and armor. Valkyrie armor had not been beskar, but durasteel. Not worth scavenging, Nix paced over toward the weapon that had always suited her best. Loki's bow and quiver were on the wall. Pulling it down, she thumbed it, astonished that Loki had acquired beskar to have this crafted. No... she hadn't acquired it by chance - this had been a gift when she had helped Freya on Mandalore. A time when beskar was not as difficult to acquire and the planet hadn't become inhospitable.

The bow had various settings. While it could use energy bolts as her current bow, it also utilized various arrows that had special effects - explosive arrows, digging arrows, poison tipped arrows, tasing arrows, electric arrows, net arrows, sniper arrows, and plain durasteel arrows that could be utilized in tandem with multiple to shoot tri volleys. The quiver would disperse arrows per the controls on the side.

Leaving behind her handy energy bow that she'd gotten from the Jawas, she took the beskar bow in its place. The necklace... it had been given to Loki by Arwest - a kyber crystal or something. Didn't matter now. Hooking the quiver so it rode against her right thigh, she glanced to Bo-Katan who was staring at the weapons.

"This one belongs to Freya," Nix retrieved the assault rifle also embezzled with beskar. "She worked with Mandalorians before..."

"And you? You have your voice and seem to remember more."

"I may remember, but there's a distinct severance between who I was before and who I am now. Those memories, it was like watching another's life, someone who isn't me."

"Seems that the Armorer who made your sigil knew you well. Come."

Flanking Bo-Katan they left behind the lab and made for the surface. Odin had left, evading Koska, who waited by the front entrance. The stormtroopers that had been the guard were all dead, their bodies strewn outside. "She got away," Koska said bitterly.

"Who was she?" Bo-Katan turned toward her.

"The first Valkyrie. She... watched each of us be tortured, slowly whittled away. It's changed her, but I don't think that any of the surviving Valkyries are even remotely the same. Did Freya make it out?" 

"Yes, she's on our ship with Woves. However, she's not looking well," Koska betrayed.

"Is there anything else you needed here?" Nix asked, rubbing her tender throat again. Gods, she could use a stiff drink to ease the pain right at this moment.

"Well, we found a Valkyrie," Bo-Katan chuckled darkly.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of one anymore."

"Come with us. Unless you've got other plans," Bo-Katan entreated.

Nix considered it. Where else would she go? Moff Gideon was alive and she needed to warn Din. She didn't know where to begin. He was going to be traveling sub-light and just trying to get tabs on him was going to be difficult. His hologram projector worked half the time, so sending him a message might not work. Maybe Karga could get him a message.

"I'm looking for another Mandalorian. My clanmate," Nix told her. 

"Know where they are?"

"Haven't a clue," Nix admitted with a tart smile. "What about you all? What's the plan?"

"Our plan?" Bo-Katan started walking past the corpses of the Imps. "Retake Mandalore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened in this chapter! I was rather conflicted on whether or not Nix would get her voice at all in this story, but decided that it would be a part of her own soul searching. Part of her has always been worried about not being her own person, but when she comes to realize after regaining her memories that she's not Loki, it's rather eye opening.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and don't worry, our Mandalorians won't be separated for too long. :)


	13. Nix's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nix continues her stay amongst the Nite Owls and releases a bit of pent up tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short because I intend on having a double feature tonight with a much longer complimentary chapter. Y'all keep possessing me to write more.

It had to be this way. Nix realized it when she was on the ship with the other Mandalorians. Had she stayed beside Din, these memories might have haunted her more, along with the idea that her voice could be waiting out on Arvala-7. She had it back, but it was a bittersweet sensation. More than anything, she wanted to pop up on his ship and have a clever remark to brandish in his face, but there was the dilemma of finding him. The blasted buckethead was good at staying beneath the radar.

So, she threw in her lot with Kryze. That was another can of worms. Discovering from them that the Mandalorian Creed that she had been converted to was a group of zealous Mandalorians who forced their people to wear their helmet and abandon the way once they had been dishonored. Knowing now that the helmet didn't carry those kinds of connotations with those born on Mandalore, removing it amongst them didn't feel as strange. 

The ambition for them was to retake Mandalore, but that required more weapons, skinning the Empire amongst the Outer Rim, and supplying their people with the ability to fight. From all Nix knew about Mandalore was that it was uninhabitable, but she hadn't realized that it was still a concentrated area for Imperial gatherings. Bo-Katan mentioned having lost an ancient weapon, the darksaber, which the Mand'alor would wield. She had wielded it before it'd fallen out of her grasp into the hands of the Empire. Nix comprehended that Bo-Katan's ambition was to retake the planet as their leader, but she wondered what was so great about Mandalore at this point. Why return to a planet that was crumbling?

She did not voice these doubts, especially not after their assistance in extracting Freya and helping free her from Odin's grasp. Ugh, that was yet another issue. Odin was working with Moff Gideon, who was  _ somehow  _ alive. His starfighter had crashed. How in the galaxy he'd survived, Nix couldn't say, but his presence still being in the galaxy was what made her worried about Din. Kriff, she still thought of him often, but there was an edge of pain to thinking of him. Did he care that she'd left? Did he miss her? Or was he happier on his own? 

Staring down at her helmet, Nix considered these thoughts often. There was no denying it now, just as she had known when they were leaving Nevarro, she was in love with him. Even if she couldn't relate to Loki that much, she could relate in the same aspect of falling in love with someone she wasn't supposed to. Din had been her teacher, her mentor - well, barely considering how that'd gone - and she'd fallen for him. Maybe it was because he tolerated her and Nix just hadn't experienced enough of the world amongst other Mandalorians that she believed she loved him.

"Hey, want to join us?" she lifted her head to see Woves.

"What for?" she was sitting on the edge of her bunk. 

"Drinks and cards? Bo-Katan is at the helm, it's just Koska and I," Axe offered.

"Alright," she set her helmet down on the cot and trotted after him. 

The ship that these Mandalorians had was more suited for multiple occupants. Around a table, Koska was relaxing in her padded clothing, without her beskar. She cocked a grin up at Nix. "Hey, newbie. Thought you'd turned in already."

"Was considering it," Nix admitted. 

"What changed your mind?" Koska asked, retrieving another cup. 

"Bo-Katan in the cockpit."

Koska snorted. "She's not that bad. A bit stern and... fixated, but considering..." she trailed off.

Bad? No, she didn't think Bo-Katan was bad. In fact, she thought the woman was hilarious. However, most of Kryze's fixation was on claiming what was rightfully hers. Often, it found its way into conversation and took over what small talk or jokes that might have been going on. Nix sympathized after hearing what had happened to her from Koska. 

"A few drinks might do her well too," Nix shrugged.

"Quite the opposite," Axe shook his head. "What's the game, Koska?"

"Space poker," she began shuffling the deck. "So, newbie, you've not told us much about yourself."

"With good reason. Apparently I'm a religious zealot, so you know..." she gave a good humored smile. "Not much to tell, I'm afraid. It's only been a little over a year since I woke up and became a Mandalorian."

"You had to have a mentor," Axe pointed out as the cards were dealt.

"I did," Nix didn't really want to talk about Din. "Very strict adherence to the Creed, but... he was a good guy. I mean, as good as bounty hunters come. Check."

"Where's he at now?" Koska flipped one of her cards. 

"Dunno. That's who I'm looking for. We parted ways after a standoff with Moff Gideon. He has a foundling in his care, which is slow aging. Needs to find a home for him."

"Ha! Both of you get shots," Koska sneered, turning another card over to reveal Tythe. 

She had no kriffing clue how this game worked, but she had come out here mostly for socializing and drinking. Nonplussed by the result, she toasted with Axe before downing the whiskey. The hot burn against her throat felt good. Slamming it down, she cocked a smirk at Koska. 

"Mandalorians don't seem to have the best luck with Moff Gideon," Axe pointed out after taking his shot. 

"No one has good luck with the Empire... Aside from those who work for them," Koska said, dealing another hand. "Moff Gideon is a right bastard though. One of the worst."

"You've had brushes with him before?" Nix asked curiously.

"Yeah... but Bo-Katan has had it the worst with him," Koska revealed shortly. "Why'd he want the foundling?"

"He had magic. Could move things with his mind, heal mortal wounds..." she paused, her brows furrowing as she thought back to Loki's memories. "He's... related to the Jedi I think."

"Jedi?" Axe arched a brow, but he didn't seem to be confused. He'd heard this name before.

"Valkyries used to hunt Jedi. From the memories I have, Loki's memories, she was quite familiar with them," Nix elaborated. "Now that I think about it, he does have their abilities. But, from what I know, the Jedi Order perished along with the Old Republic."

"Your turn," Axe snarked at both women. "They did...  _ most  _ of them. We know of one who helped in the rebellion. But she left the Jedi Order before its demise. We knew of another, who helped Bo-Katan's sister, Satine, but that was... what, when we were still training?" he glanced over at Koska.

"You were almost done if I recall, but I was still too young," Koska agreed, pouring both females another drink. "Hey, how well can Valkyries handle their alcohol? You're superhuman, so does it take more?"

"Haven't a clue. First drink I've had," Nix betrayed, toasting her and enjoying the second shot.

"Really?" Koska's brows furrowed. "Was the Mandalorian you were with a complete saint?"

Nix snorted into her cup. " _ Kriff _ no! We just didn't have alcohol on the ship as far as I knew. There was some spotchka on Sorgan, but.. uh..." she thought back to the moody trip she'd had there and the several weeks amongst the farmers. "I was fixated on my recovery and training, so I didn't drink while I was there either."

"Sorgan?" Axe repeated. "What were you doing in such a backwater place?"

Nix blinked blearily, dismayed the conversation had pinged back over to her, but supposed they just wanted to get to know her. She was sort of an enigma as far as they knew. "Helped a village out. We had the child and thought about leaving him there before realizing that the Guild was hunting him."

"Doesn't sound like you had that great of a time there," Axe observed, elbowing her slightly with a smirk.

"Hah, I mean aside from the peaty, marshy, stinking humid climate - yeah, didn't have too great of a time. Something about the locals and how... mundane they were that really didn't vibe with me," Nix phrased carefully.

"Another round," Koska snickered.

"How come I've had one every round?" Nix complained.

"You're quite terrible at this game," Axe informed her. "I'd almost believe you're losing on purpose."

"Something like that," Nix agreed, accepting her next shot. Drink to lighten up. Drink to forget. Though it was hard to when all the questions being pelted at her were related to the time she spent with Din. 

The games and drinking continued for a while longer, until Koska turned in, leaving her in a tangled conversation with Axe. 

"So you recovered in just a matter of a few weeks?" he asked, seemingly amazed.

"Yes, and Freya should make similar progress once she's feeling well enough to begin training," Nix nodded, nursing her drink. They were no longer taking shots, but she hadn't been keen on parting with the alcohol just yet. "Whatever our genetic makeup is, it helps aid in recovery."

"And healing too?" 

"No, not really. I mean... I haven't been hurt that badly just yet. I've cauterized other wounds, used bacta-spray... Scars are scars. I don't have magic skin or anything like that," Nix answered.

"So you barely know what you are yourself," Axe hummed, mulling over his cup. "And we don't know who created the Valkyries."

"Nope. I just know that we are petri-dish babies. No parents."

"Can Valkyries have children?"

"Uh," she thought hard about that one. "I don't know. I don't think so. It would only make us weaker... the ability to get pregnant. Although..." her fingers grazed her abdomen subconsciously, wondering how she'd never thought about that before. This body was still young enough to have a child if that's what she wanted... but in Loki's memories she didn't see anything that hinted at another Valkyrie becoming pregnant. They weren't celibate and Loki hadn't been.

Axe sensed her trepidation. "How about a different game? If... you're up for it."

"Is it another drinking game?" she asked, glad for the shift in subject. She had drank a considerable amount, but still had enough of her wits about her. Maybe being a Valkyrie did give her more tolerance than someone of her stature should have had. Though by this point she knew she'd fade quickly if she pounded back too much more. 

"Sort of," he grinned. 

He was kind of handsome. Nix hadn't thought much of it until now. Dark, short cropped hair, a long face covered in stubble, hooded brown eyes. He might have been a little older than her, but there was a rugged charm about the other Mandalorian. There was no observed arrogance, but just a... calmness. As if Woves knew everything was under control and didn't worry about what might come. 

The game was poker, but this time their bets could be taken in the form of alcohol or an article of clothing. Nix knew that this was strip poker and Axe had mentioned nonchalantly that she didn't have to partake. But glancing back at him, she barely thought back to Din. He'd rejected her. Now, sitting before her was the opportunity to cut an edge off of her longing and seemingly without much attachment. Her intention wasn't to stay with them forever, so a small fling shouldn't cause problems as long as they were professional about it...

At least, these were thoughts that Nix had later. Not while she lost miserably at poker and had fun while doing it. Woves gave her a few hands, just to tease her enough with the removal of his padded top and undershirt. He was muscular, large biceps, and defined. Not keen on having Bo-Katan walk in on them, they migrated into Woves' quarters. 

Falling against the bed, Nix's breath shuddered, watching with keen interest as Axe slid down the rest of his trousers. Her eyes trailed down a well hewn abdomen, to the bulge against his underwear, between her own legs as hot as her cheeks. But it was the necklace he wore that drew her attention the most; the mythosaur pendant.

* * *

She felt a hand tracing through her loose hair, turning an auburn lock between a finger. Blinking slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the small room. Turning her head, she observed Axe's handsome countenance looking down at her, a light smile twisting up the corners of his lips. "You didn't sleep that long. I thought you were going to drink me under the table," he chuckled, bending forward and pressing his mouth to hers. His lips still tasted of whiskey.

It felt good, but did it feel right? "Perks of being a Valkyrie," she chuckled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep here."

"Mm," he hummed. "It's alright."

Her eyes caught the slight glint of his necklace, a hard knot forming in her throat. She'd had sex with Axe. It'd been all fire, the both of them working quickly to break the tension that had lined them both. But there had been little passion aside from that. Still, she couldn't deny how good it'd felt to finally relieve the itch she'd been suffering from. 

"What is it?" he caught her staring. 

"I just... recognized that necklace," she admitted honestly, reaching up to thumb the metal. She turned, laying flat on her belly, crooked against Axe's arm, his hand on her hip. 

"Many Mandalorians wear them," Axe told her. "Where did you see another?" he paused, cocking a smile at her. "In another position like this?"

"Ha!" she let out a tart breath, but her lips still turned up in amusement. "No, not quite. My clansmate has one. When he was... dying... he tried to give it to me."

"Dying? I thought you said he had lived."

"He did after, but before we were certain he'd live."

"What did you do with it? Clearly you don't have it," his fingers trailed against her exposed collar and toward her breasts. 

"I threw it at his stupid buckethead."

Axe grinned, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. "So... your clansmate almost dies and you threw his present back at his face?"

"Oh, don't give me those eyes," Nix huffed. "You have no idea what it was like. To watch someone almost die and then have them tell you that they want everything to go back to normal. To how it was right before that scrape with death. I felt rebuffed and I wonder if it had to do with the fact that my helmet got removed and he covered for me with the last member of the Tribe. I shouldn't have received the rest of my beskar."

"Why not? From what you told Koska and I, you seemed to have earned it fairly."

"But the  _ Creed _ ," she insisted, aware that he didn't comprehend it in the same manner as others of the Tribe. Her adherence to the Creed was because she had lived through it until this point. "I might have lived a year by the Creed, but... my clansmate lived nearly his entire life like that."

"I still don't quite understand the fixation with the helmet," Axe admitted simply, bringing a hand to run it into her hair. "But the way you're describing your clansmate, I sense there are a lot of unresolved emotions surrounding him," his fingers tightened against her scalp, drawing her in. "It sounds almost as if you're in love with him."

"Does that mean anything to you?" Nix asked, pressing into his touch.

"No," he revealed. "You're your own person and we've only just met. I'd like to get to know you more, but-" he let out a sigh, but the corners of his lips tugged up. "I can see it won't work in my favor. I think I'll savor these moments for now until you return to him."

She was taken aback by Axe's tenderness and willingness to be a temporary lover. Maybe it was what the both of them needed to cut the edge off of how stressful their lives could be. "Thank you," she said suddenly. 

"You're thanking me for sleeping with you?" Axe mused.

"Yeah, I needed it," Nix snickered.

He laughed. "I did too. A shame you're already taken."

"Not technically," she snorted. "As far as I know, that buckethead doesn't think of me in the same way."

"So endearing," Axe teased lightly. "There's always room on this ship if things don't work out. Although, a man would have to be mad to turn away a face like yours."

"I think my temper is a bit more of a problem than my face," she chuckled.

There was nothing special about the relationship that had formed between her and Axe. After their conversation, it was clear that what had been created was a relationship of convenience and to satiate mutual frustrations. Though it seemed that Nix was the more frustrated one. And seeing the mythosaur necklace around Axe's throat only did well to remind her of the man she actually wished she was sleeping with. This worked for now. Axe wasn't going to form attachments, as eventually she'd part ways from them. 

Their travels took them amongst the bones of Imperial outposts. However, what should have been bones sometimes turned out to be holes filled with stormtroopers. Even if the Empire had fallen, it seemed that they were rebuilding the troops and weapons. A good portion of their work consisted of scouting, as it wasn't safe for just 4 Mandalorians to make an attempt at purging entire garrisons. How the New Republic didn't know that there were so many Imps populating the planets on the Outer Rim, Nix couldn't say. Maybe they were just spread too thin and couldn't allocate the resources to actually do good investigation out this far.

Hell, it took a while to get anywhere if you were on one of the main ways. 

Freya was getting better, very slowly. Her body had been in much worse a state than herself. Just walking was difficult for her and she had to be eased into each new phase. There was sorrow in the blonde, for the fact that Nix wasn't Loki, but she came to accept this. Maybe there was comfort in seeing a familiar face, even if that face wasn't as you recalled it. 

They were on Trask now, gathering information about Imperial activity on the ocean planet. If there was one thing she hated more than swampy, humid climates, she decided it was kriffing planets built on top of the ocean. She'd take being thrown out of her bunk on the *Razor Crest* over being on one of the damn boats again. Ugh, there was something entirely unsettling about her stomach moved and dropped on a ship. Not to mention the Quarrens who had done well at grinding her patience. 

Having gained her voice back seemed to do her less favors than benefit. Before, few had been able to acknowledge her wit or tart remarks, but now... Nix was unable to keep her temper in check and often annoyed the locals. And when it was 'annoy' it was more like 'get into fights with'. Wasn't her fault that the bulk of the sailor folk were absolutely intolerable and shady. 

"Hey, we've just got word on another Mandalorian being sighted here just a couple of hours ago," Koska came up to their pod, sitting at a table in the common house.

"Another Mandalorian? What are the chances?" Woves asked, putting his spoon down. 

"Where'd they go?" Bo-Katan asked gravely.

"Fishing boat," Kaska answered.

Bo-Katan grimaced. "Beskar harvesting. Let's go."

Picking up, everyone replaced their helmets and stepped outside of the common house. Jetpacks were ignited, a new familiarity in Nix's bones. Over the few months amongst the other Mandalorians, she had become better at using her jetpack with their assistance. Sailing above the murky depths of Trask's oceans, Koska took lead in the direction her contact had informed her. Beskar harvesting had already become known to them during their time on Trask. 

Her suspicion of the Quarrens was because they had been targeting lone Mandalorians, luring them onto their boats before drowning them. A pack of 4 was too much for the cowards to attempt in tricking. Other locals were not as keen on the practice, aware that the fishermen would eventually bring the wrath of Mandalorians. Perhaps they thought their population was so sparse that they'd just continue to acquire a nice trickle of beskar.

Nix was excited to get the jump on them, though she hoped that the targeted Mandalorian was not dead yet. They passed a couple of ships that had no Mandalorian killing activity, but it was the third one that was the charm. Down below, a Quarren fisherman was prodding a helmet, trying to force it beneath the surface, to drown the warrior.

Drawing her bow, she remained up in the air as the others sailed down, taking an explosive arrow from her quiver. Knocking it swiftly, she sent it sailing toward the mongerer who was trying to drown the Mandalorian. The arrow whizzed, exploding on impact with the squid head's torso. She switched her mode, covering the others - though there wasn't much need - as the other three had made quick work of fishermen. After all, they weren't trained warriors - just opportunists. Landing uncertainly on the ship's deck, she bent down and opened the trap door, finally getting a good look at the Mandalorian who had been stuck.

The silver glint of his beskar caught her breath, her hand reaching down to snag his and pull him out of the pit. Unable to help herself, she grinned beneath her mask. "What's up buckethead?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be mad at me for Nix having a little fun.


	14. Din's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorians are reunited, but there's a pressing matter that requires more attention than their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! I'm astonished that there's nearly 2k views.

He'd let her go.

It hadn't been intentional. Not when she was breaking down right in front of him, losing all control of her emotions come the end of their battle on Nevarro. Looking back, he knew he should have comforted her, and should have _showed_ her how he felt. Instead, he withdrew into his beskar shell and ignored her request for confirmation that she wasn't going crazy. Nix held grudges. He'd crossed her and doubted that he'd catch sight of the Valkyrie again. Deep down, he'd known that her own ghosts would require tending before they'd be a perfect, cohesive team. That wasn't to say he wanted her to go.

The moment he realized that she was gone it'd hit him like one of her arrows, crippling him momentarily as his mythosaur necklace had been left on the cold storage shed floor. Holding it in his hand, he'd realized his mistake. Nix wasn't someone he could just let go and that became abundantly clear as the days went on. At first, he'd believed that he could simply move on and the pain would begin fading. Her company had been the first he'd entertained in a long while and there was solace in having a trustworthy partner. Now, back on the way as the only one watching the child, and managing... everything... it was a bit overwhelming. He had a lot of slack to pick up now. But that wasn't the worst part of any of this. 

His longing didn't fade. In fact, it became worse than it had ever been when she was on the ship. The familiar glint of the red-gold beskar, her animated gestures, and whimsical method of displaying her emotions without removing her helmet. Maker, he was more attached to her than he cared to admit. The solo Mandalorian bounty hunter was ailed by a broken heart? Thinking of that idea made him scoff, but his heart still panged. He knew the kid missed her too. While he was good at handling the child, he didn't have the same playfulness as Nix did. 

Where was she now? What was she doing? Was she safe?

No goodbye. She had just vanished. He hadn't done anything deserving of a goodbye. He'd hurt her, refusing to confirm her own suspicions. Hindsight, he realized how awful the build up had been. If he had been more insistent on proving that he didn't have feelings then this would have never happened. If he'd been better at controlling his emotions... Her pretty face was seared into his head, her narrow nose smattered with freckles, those copper brown eyes, and her delicate jaw. Many restless nights were fixated on her and his desire to have her. Fade? No. Din Djarin was hopelessly pining over a woman he had the chance to do right by. Instead, he'd spurned her with his silence, forgetting that silence spoke louder than words. 

But... the child was his focus. He needed to fixate on finding a home for the child and he couldn't do that alone. That was becoming blatantly clear. After learning of the fall of the Tribe, he hoped to find more Mandalorians to help aid him in his quest. Maybe if he had Nix beside him, they could have managed, but he had burned that bridge. His travels brought him to an old contact, Gor Koresh, before entreating a Mandalorian on Tatooine... Only, the man hadn't been a Mandalorian, but someone who had bought the beskar off Jawas.

Acquiring the beskar meant he had to offer something in exchange and that turned out to be a service. He spent a good amount of time on that crusty, hot planet, thinking of the last time he'd been there and how Nix had been beside him. Originally, he thought that the dead end had done him little good before Peli Motto set him up with a new lead. She'd been disappointed that Nix wasn't there, but didn't pry too much. 

Then the fiasco with the New Republic on Maldo Kreis. Transporting the Frog Lady should have been a simple task, if not for the fact that they had to go the entire way sub-light. Surviving the crash landing, he laid within the ailing _Razor Crest_ wondering how the kriff he had ended up in this shitstorm. If she were there... would it have happened the same? Would he be as tart and tired? He'd resigned himself to sitting in the frost, despite the fact that he had a cold blooded passenger on the ship. He just... didn't care. And not caring was dangerous when you had a child to look after.

Originally, there had been little hope in getting off of Maldo Kreis, the dejection and misery he felt threatening to overwhelm him. He was never truly alone, not with the bright child with him, but he wasn't whole. In that moment on Maldo Kreis he'd been allowed to stew in his thoughts more than usual. Barely just getting off that hunk of ice, he'd gotten the Frog Lady to Trask, astonished to discover that other Mandalorians had been sighted nearby. A few fishermen were willing to take them out to find the Mandalorians.

He should have considered how suspicious this was, but honestly, he was _tired_. The months had been long, cumbersome, and harrowing. Din had scraped by until this point and the idea of finally being amongst other Mandalorians took the edge off of his bitterness. With his guard lowered, the child's pram was thrust into the maw of the Mamacore before he could react - the fisherman using a prod to shove him into the trap door, forcing him beneath the surface of the water, filling his helmet with salt and brine.

Sputtering, his life flashed in front of his eyes for a moment, the Mamacore lurking beneath the murky water. And just as he had back on Nevarro, he thought of her. It barely registered in his head when fighting ensued above him and the fisherman trying to force him beneath the waves exploded in a bloody mess. Clinging to the edge of the boat, the trapdoor swung open, and a golden-red beskar vambrace hauled him out of the water. 

"What's up buckethead?"

"T-the child! The child is in that creature's mouth!" he managed, his mind still reeling, his mouth still hacking out salt water.

Another Mandalorian turned, igniting her jetpack before diving into the depths. His savior stood up, remaining by the edge of the water as it bubbled with explosions. His eyes adjusted, drinking in the familiar curve of her hips, the fur collar, and the wing pronged helmet. _Nix_. Was he hallucinating? Was she actually there? If she was... she had spoken out loud. 

The Mandalorian burst from out of the water, the child's pram in her arms. She landed, dripping all over the dock, as Din reached down and pried it open. Inside, the child's eyes were stretched wide, wet slightly around the edges. Removing the baby, Din held the kid close as the pack of Mandalorians converged. 

"Is that him?" a man asked quietly.

"Yes, it is," his eyes turned back to the Mandalorian who had Nix's armor. No, it had to be her, but she was talking out loud.

Turning around, she slid her bow - different from how he remembered it - against her back and disengaged her helmet with a hiss. Her coppery eyes settled on him, just as lovely as he remembered. "Looks like you've been getting yourself into all sorts of trouble without me around to watch your back," she tsked, bending down to brush her gloved fingers over the child's head. Her voice was so sweet, despite the attitude inflecting in it. "What, loth-cat got your tongue, Djarin?"

He stole a breath, sitting on the deck still, the child reaching out toward her in keen recognition. "Nix..." but his hackles rose immediately. She had removed her helmet in front of other Mandalorians. Glancing back toward them, he watched in horror as they also took their helmets off. "They're not Mandalorian."

Nix glanced back, then to him, the corner of her lips twitched in an amused manner. It annoyed him. "They're Mandalorian. Bo-Katan was born on Mandalore and fought in the Great Purge."

Her new companions trailed forward, their leader a copper haired woman. "She speaks truly. I understand you're a Child of the Watch."

"What... is the Watch?" his eyes stayed on her armor, recognizing the sigil... no, it was slightly wrong, but it reminded him of the Death Watch.

"The Children of the Watch are a religious cult that broke away from Mandalorian society. Their goal was to re-establish the ancient way," Bo-Katan explained.

"There is only one way. The Way of the Mandalore," he retorted sternly, his helmet tilting up toward Nix for support. But she stood amongst them with her helmet off. 

"We can talk about this over a drink," the dark skinned woman who had saved the child said. 

Nix offered him a hand up, which he rejected, pushing himself to his feet on his own. Rather than flinching, her fingers tightened into a fist and her eyes became icy. "Look. I don't know what you've got shoved up your ass, but I was hoping for a warmer welcome."

"Welcome?" he bit back. "You abandoned us." The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. He knew, deep down, that he had pushed her away, but in his slight fury and confusion he snapped at her.

" _Abandoned_ ?" Nix's lips turned in a cruel smile. "Did you forget what _you_ did? A partnership is not one sided. I was more than willing to-" she turned around. "We'll join you back at the common house. We don't need an audience."

The others nodded, replacing their helmets before jetting away. Nix rounded back on him, her fingers tightening on her helmet, cocking her other hand on her hip. Once the Mandalorians had gone, she arched a brow at him in an unimpressed manner. "You all set now? Got that out of your system?" A harsh laugh passed her lips. "Wow, I can't believe I actually thought you might care that I'd gone."

"I did," he told her through gritted teeth. 

" _Really_? Because everytime we have conversations, it seems as if I'm the one saying the most words. Even when I couldn't speak audibly," Nix pointed out tartly.

Maker, her jabs were even worse coming from her mouth. 

"Silent again?" She was unamused.

"For fuck's sake, Nix. What do you want? Do you want me to apologize? To grovel?"

"I want you to acknowledge what we are. Look-" she hissed a sigh, pressing a hand to her temple. "When you nearly died on Nevarro, I was willing to die beside you. I thought that would mean more to you."

His eyes narrowed behind his visor, the sun glinting through the clouds and catching light against her gold armor. Her hair glowed, complimenting her warm skin tone. She was better than he remembered, even when disdain lined her features. "I think you forget about how severe my injury was," he retorted dryly.

"Stop evading the subject," she snipped.

He considered her longer, thinking of how hard she'd collided with him when he had appeared with IG-11, alive. "I-" he took a deep breath. "-have been trying to sort out my own thoughts in regards to this."

"You know, I gave you some months to consider that," Nix pointed out.

And he had. He knew that he needed her back beside him. "Doesn't seem as if you were entirely dormant during that time."

She cocked a smirk at him, tugging at his heartstrings. "Oh, seems you've noticed my new bow."

Breathing a laugh, he took a tentative step forward, wondering if it was his turn to be rejected. His fingers brushed against her hair, pushing back a stray frond behind her ear. But he didn't remove his hand, tracing his fingertips against her jawline and to the bottom of her chin. She closed her eyes, shivering slightly beneath his touch. 

Her eyes opened, making him freeze where he stood. "Did you decide?" she asked quietly.

He drew her in, pressing the chin of his helmet upon the top of her head. While he couldn't feel her warmth through the beskar and his soaking wet clothing, he could savor her familiar proximity. Maker, he'd longed to have her back in his arms. "I missed you," he told her. 

"Kriff, never thought I'd hear you say that," she joked.

"The galaxy is full of miracles, it would seem. I never thought I'd hear your voice," Din retorted, voice humming in the back of his throat. 

"Do you like it? I think I can go back to Arvala-7 and trade it in if not."

"Can... you really?" he pulled away slightly to look at her, realizing to his chagrin that it was a jest. His cheeks burned slightly as she grinned up at him haughtily. "No, it's rather how I imagined it."

"You imagined me having a voice?" Nix questioned, slightly taken aback by this.

"I did," and he'd imagined many other things about her, just as he was in that moment, overwhelmed by their reunion. "The Mandalorians you're working with... are you-"

"If you can tell me, _actually_ tell me out loud, that you want me beside you, then I will join you again. And I don't want any of this bantha shit about going back to how it was before Nevarro," Nix entreated, her almond shaped eyes pinning him with fair expectations. 

"I still have to follow the Creed," he told her weakly, despite the information he had just been given.

"I didn't say my company balanced on your intention to follow the Creed."

He paused, taking her in once again, his heart burning in his chest despite how cool his skin was. "Please don't leave again," he muttered, dragging her back against him, almost afraid that she'd vanish if he did let her go. "I _need_ you beside me."

"Alright, alright, don't be overly clingy," Nix dismissed, but she was smiling widely. Even as nonchalant as she was, he knew that she needed to hear that. 

"You just asked me to say it," he grumbled.

"Mm," the hum in the back of her throat made him shudder. Her eyes pinned him, the dark lashes curled around them. “We will resume our partnership, _but_ -” she took a delicate breath. “I have terms of my own.”

“Terms?” he echoed. 

“Yes,” she insisted, breaking away so that she could stand on her own. “You’re going to talk to me. Even if I have to twist your fingers, Maker forbid what will happen if you don’t answer me again, Din Djarin. We will not have a repeat of post-Nevarro. Additionally, _us_ , if I’m not wrong in saying that. If _we_ become more than partners, it shall not be with both of us wearing our helmets.”

Her suggestion of a deeper relationship made his heart burn, but the counter to that caused him to bite his lip. She seemed fine without her helmet, no longer attached to it after meeting with this group of Mandalorians. It’d only been a year for her. His time in the helmet had spanned decades. But she wasn’t ignorant, she knew what she was suggesting. If he was true in his emotions for her, then removing his helmet before her shouldn’t be an afterthought. “You know what you’re asking,” he said, slightly reproachful.

Her face remained calm. “Yes, I do. Which is why I told you our partnership is resuming. I know what I ask for is not simple or easy. I can give you the time you need and if you decide after that you’d prefer just partnership, then that is fine too,” she was easing this subject, but firm about where she stood. “So,” but an impish smile returned now. “That means keep your hands to yourself, Djarin, unless you intend on removing your helmet.”

 _Fuck._ That was easier said than done. He’d been longing to see her again, to have his hands against her skin, even now he wanted nothing more than to throw his kriffing helmet into the ocean and kiss her. To just confirm what he thought, but there would be no taking it back. And she was willing to wait. That should have been good enough, but just considering what might wait for them back on the _Razor Crest_ made him sigh slightly. 

“Fine,” he finally conceded while snared by those warm eyes. Shifting the subject, “How did you get your voice back?”

“Ha,” she let out a small breath, leaning up against a container before crossing her arms. Swallowing hard, he observed the slight bit of discomfort lining her shoulders… Was the ship making her sick? “I found the lab on Arvala-7. In it, two Valkyries that were still alive. FR3-Y4 or Freya. And 0D-1N, Odin, the original Valkyrie. We called her ‘mother’,” her face became more serious in that moment. “Moff Gideon is alive.”

“ _What?_ ” How was that possible? His ship had crashed. No one should have survived such a fall.

“Odin is working with him. When I found out, I knew I had to find you. She’s, um…” she winced slightly. “Not herself. I mean, I’m technically not either. Both Odin and Freya see who I was, Loki. But… I’m not Loki. Even with Loki’s memories, I still don’t feel quite like her.”

“Wait… what? You have your memories now too?” Din tried to wrap his head around everything that had happened, but as she briefly touched upon it, a deep realization smacked him. _He should have been there helping her._ The child was a priority, but her voice, her memories - everything had been waiting on Arvala-7 where she had left it. 

“Right, right,” she drew a sharp breath. “Let me go through this properly.”

Nix began with how she found the lab again, discovering that stormtroopers were guarding it and seemed to be extracting information. While scouting and assessing how she would get inside, she was found by Bo-Katan’s group, who also had been there armed with the knowledge that a Valkyrie was alive. Since Valkyries had once been allies to the Mandalorians, Bo-Katan had been eager to free one from the Empire. Nix elaborated that she explained she was also a Valkyrie in form, but not in memories. Now, she was a Mandalorian and her own, different person. The muscles in her bespoke her original heritage, but her mind did not match. 

Repressed memories began to fly at her, pelting her as she entered, recalling the torture she had experienced at the hand of a man called Doctor Mendellson. He’d taken her voice because of her mouth, how the joker had managed to keep morale amongst her fellow Valkyries despite the fact that the doctor’s purpose was to break and repurpose them. Rather than just killing her - no, Loki - he’d taken her voice. Din realized that she must have become a fixation of his attention, an obsession. The one experiment that managed to rebel despite having little to no freedom. Loki had been kept for last. All the others before her had been stepping stones. If he could turn the rebellious one into a perfect soldier, then the others would be easy.

He almost succeeded, Din came to understand. Nix had woken up with no memories. If Doctor Mendellson had lived, he could have retrained her just as he had wanted. Instead, she’d fallen into his own hands, fashioned to be a Mandalorian rather than a pawn of the Old Republic.

Freya was found, a sister that Loki had been very close with, but one that Nix did not know. She was taken into the custody of Bo-Katan while Nix pressed deeper and to the armory that Freya had mentioned. Only, waiting down below was Odin. Nix explained that she sympathized with Odin, as the woman had to watch each of her ‘daughters’ be tortured, while enduring her own pain, including the removal of one of her eyes. Just listening to the descriptions and memories that Nix spoke of - someone disjuncted as if from another’s eyes - made him wince. Even if the Valkyries had been created, that didn’t mean they were emotionless and unfeeling animals. They were people and had been subjected to cruel and unethical torture. 

“She wants revenge on the New Republic,” Nix explained. “I understood why after Loki’s memories came to me. I think… she was intending on turning me against the Republic too after showing me these memories, but she hadn’t been anticipating that they’d mean nothing to me.”

“Your memories meant nothing to you?”

“Din, they’re not my memories,” Nix insisted, glancing up from her palms. “They are Loki’s memories. _I am not Loki._ She died years ago. As much as Odin and Freya wish I was her, I’m not. Sure, we share similar traits such as our wit, sharp mouths, and physical abilities - but that’s where it ends. Loki had issues of her own and she was… cruel and indifferent. Not to mention she lost her sense of honor after Odin killed her lover. Which, Loki had little honor to begin with. She was an assassin who only failed in her job once. That failure hung over her head and dragged like weights on her ankles. Loki didn’t wish to see her sisters die, but she was ready to die in that lab - just not without a fight.”

“And Odin went mad after witnessing all of the horrors in the lab. You told her that this Republic isn’t the same one?”

“Yes, she won’t hear of it, just like she was insistent on turning me back into Loki. She was…” he watched as she paled slightly. “She was going to wipe my memories again.”

A chill swept over his skin, thinking of crossing Nix again, but it was not her. What would Loki look like? Nix had moments where he saw the ruthless killer beneath her petite form, but… she wasn’t without reason. People who deserved such deaths were awarded with them. Calican for example, had threatened Peli Motto and the child. He would have ended the young bounty hunter sooner, though Nix’s vindictiveness was becoming infamous. But she had a heart, he had seen it when she refused to abandon him, when she had played a sleight of hand trick with Omera’s daughter, or when she entertained the child.

“Yeah,” she let out a dark chuckle. “Your silence tells me all I need to know. I had been a bit of an ass until that point-”

“How surprising,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Hey! You’ve got to find humor in the little things or the darkness in every corner of the galaxy will overwhelm you. Best to keep my chin up and acknowledge that I was royally screwed then cry about it.”

“You’re going to get us killed one day, especially since everyone can understand you now,” Din grumbled, but he was smiling beneath his helmet, having missed the goofy auburnette.

“ _I might._ But I suppose that’s the risk you take in agreeing to have me with you again,” Nix shrugged, returning to the main subject. “In tandem with giving me Loki’s memories, she restored my vocal chords. I assume there was some sort of healing probe inserted into my throat while I was watching the memories - my neck did hurt quite a bit after. But oddly, the voice I have isn’t Loki’s either. I knew from the memories - Loki had a very… er, how do I say this… _sultry_ and smokey. Much deeper than my own is. I suppose I was awarded with a voice as annoying as me.”

He didn’t think that. Nix’s new voice fit her. It was like her, bright, full of an achingly pure timbre, crystalline, intensely rich and lilting. Each word had a resounding, perfect clarity and while higher than most women he’d met, he didn’t believe there was anything missing from the silvery voice she had. Rather, there was something inherently feminine and darling about her voice, despite how whimsically she tended to use it.

“Give me a few more days and I’ll likely grow tired of it,” he quipped, drawing a slightly pout from her. “The more you say, the more it sounds as if the armorer was correct - you were completely reborn. The memories mean nothing to you, just the experiences you grew from.”

“Yes, which is why I want to impress upon the fact that in spite of my voice, I’m still the same person. Loki’s memories are just bits of information that help me comprehend about the Valkyries a bit more, but I don’t feel like one of them. I feel more comfortable amongst Mandalorians and… Bo-Katan’s group, The Nite Owls - they’re all good people. I’ve been with them since Arvala-7, so a handful of months now. I wasn’t actively tracking you, but it seems the lucksprites are finally on my side.”

He snorted at her reference, thinking back how they’d come to an agreement back on Sorgan before leaving. This was quite similar, though in a different manner. Nix was rejoining him not as a student, but as a person who had closed the doors on her ghosts. She was committing herself fully and sharing all facets of her being. Purposeful vulnerability, driving a point that she trusted him and wanted to open that door for appropriate communication to avoid ever having a falling out once again. 

“I’m… glad that you resolved those missing links on Arvala-7. I should have gone with you,” Din admitted, betraying his guilt.

“Hindsight is 20/20. And the child was your priority. I hold no ilk over that.”

“ _You_ hold no ilk?” he repeated incredulously. “Are you certain you’re actually still Nix?”

Her laughter twinkled through the air like chimes, catching his heart and breath. But it was the wolfish grin that made him smile back. “I guess you can say I matured a bit more. Maybe it’s also because our separation wasn’t _that_ long that I’m not livid with you. Then again, you didn’t turn the _Razor Crest_ back around to seek me out on Nevarro… soooo-” she gave him a hard pressed look as if she might actually still be mad, but then broke her countenance with a sly grin. “Let’s just say you owe me.”

“You left. I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Quite the contrary,” she purred, hopping down from her perch. “I wanted more than you were ready to give.” Before she slid her helmet back on, she winked at him. “But, the others should be waiting for us-” her voice had shifted slightly after being translated through the vocoder, it still had its gentle husk. Igniting her jetpack, she took off into the air. His own had dried sufficiently while they caught up. Kicking off, he joined her in the sky, contemplating what had happened over the course of the day.

Nix was back. 

She was different, but the same. With the addition of her voice and a new, more open philosophy, she had held her palm open offering what he had been dreaming of. Love. But it was guarded, the key costing his face. Given what had happened and her upset after he’d tried to force them into a semblance of normality, deferring the fact that she had refused to abandon him, and the volumes that had spoken. He’d tried to rationalize it otherwise, convince himself that he was reading too much into her companionship. But after she’d left… he knew that she loved him and he’d hurt her. The silence he had offered, in light of the tender heart she’d displayed - despite how curt and whimsical she could be - he’d turned his back on it. Maybe he was too used to being alone that he just thought Nix’s affections were misplaced. But… she’d returned and laid the prospect in front of him, albeit doggedly, but that was just how she was. Nix was the joker. 

But she’d always been honest with him. Even then, she’d laid to bare the entirety of the memories she had experienced. Including the fact that Loki had been in love with a man from Alderaan. The memories were like a book to her, she’d read them, but hadn’t experienced them. Still, he was trying to come to grips with the information he’d learned about the Tribe. Mandalorians didn’t wear their helmets at all times. This was thrust into his face again upon entering the common house, where the three blue and white beskar armored Mandalorians were sitting, eating the slosh that was served by the Quarren publican.

Nix peeled her own helmet off with indifference, grinning as she joined them. Over the few months, she had made new friends of her own. Din should have been more approving, but he was still unsettled by the manner in which they all placed their helmets aside to have drinks and food. 

“Not gonna remove your helmet?” a dark skinned woman asked him, slurping up her soup, pinning him with a stern gaze. This was the Mandalorian who had saved the child from the Mamacore.

Nix took the baby, propping him on her knee, cooing quietly to him as he reached up and pawed at her face. The kid was thrilled to be around her again, imploring eyes creasing as she made a silly face at him. 

“No,” Din answered firmly.

“Give it a rest,” the man opposite of them eased a smile. “How much did she fill you in on?”

“Enough.”

“Except for names,” Nix realized. “This is Koska Reeves and Axe Woves.”

“Does ‘buckethead’ have a name?” Koska inquired, having caught her insult back on the boat. “Unless the Watch doesn’t even assign names.”

Nix glanced at him, as if asking permission to say his name. She’d used it a few times now and he hadn’t minded. It felt right when hearing it come from her. Amongst other Mandalorians he didn’t… care as much. “Din Djarin,” he introduced.

Axe slid a drink over to Nix who accepted it heartily. He watched on, slightly jealous that he couldn’t partake in the rounds with them. Which was… odd. He’d never cared much for keeping up appearances in a social situation.

“Another!” Woves seemed to notice that Din was staring, calling for a drink for him.

Even if he wasn’t going to remove his helmet entirely, he could at least oblige in the drink. “Thanks,” he said, his interest between the Mandalorians spiking. Born on Mandalore… but what was their purpose? Nix had been rather vague about that.

“So Din, we’ve heard a bit about you, although Nix doesn’t talk too much… Not anything that’s important anyways,” Koska rolled her eyes at the other young woman. “What brought you here?”

“I was seeking other Mandalorians,” he informed her bluntly. “To help aid in my quest to return this child to his people… The Jedi?” Gesturing to the child, he watched the slight disquiet that fell over the group. The bartender returned with a drink for him, placing it down on the table.

“We’ve been on Trask for a little while,” Koska nodded, her eyes turning to Bo-Katan.

“Yes, the port is known for being black market. The ports have been staging weapons that had been bought and sold with the plunder of Mandalore. We have been working to seize those weapons, before utilizing them to retake our homeworld," Bo-Katan filled in. "My intention is to take my rightful place as Mand'alor once we succeed."

Din had lifted his helmet enough to take a sip of his drink, setting it back down to consider her. "Mandalore is cursed. Everyone who goes there dies," he told her. "Even the Empire wasn't able to control it, so they made certain that no one else could make similar attempts."

Bo-Katan let out a small breath of a laugh, raising her eyes defiantly. "Don't believe everything you hear. Our enemies wish to separate us. Mandalorians are stronger together."

Her cryptic claim made his brows furrow. Mandalore wasn't habitable. Or... could it be managed? He was still doubtful of this, but decided not to antagonize Bo-Katan, as he'd never been to the planet himself, only warned to steer clear of it. 

"I had been hoping that you would help me deliver the child by the Creed, but... It seems you're already preoccupied," Din commented, glancing over to his partner who was bouncing the child in her lap. Even if he couldn't have the other three Mandalorians, having Nix beside him was more redeeming than having them. 

The Creed seemed to make Koska flare up a bit, perhaps in a bit of indignance, though he couldn't tell why. "We have information on a Jedi," Bo-Katan said slowly. "We would be willing to turn it over with your assistance in acquiring those weapons."

He glanced toward Nix, wondering if she had any idea about the Jedi, but supposed she would have shared this with him before coming to the bar. "I will be going with him after this mission," Nix told Bo-Katan.

The older woman cocked a sly smile. "We presumed as much."

Nix didn't seem embarrassed, rather brimming with excitement as she toasted with Koska. Observing the group, Din noticed that they were all rather fond of her. Why wouldn't they be? Nix was charming in her own, goofy way and knew how to follow orders when it came down to the wire. His eyes fell on the male Mandalorian, Axe Woves, noticing that he kept glancing back at her. _"Is that him?"_ The others didn't know much about him, but Axe had known of him.

"That's a fair trade," Din agreed finally, tearing his visor away from Woves. 

"Right, well... let's finish up here and we can talk more about it elsewhere," Bo-Katan suggested, picking up her cup to polish off her drink. 

Nix and Koska gave one another hard looks before silently beginning a race to see who could finish first. Koska slammed her cup down first to the auburnette's chagrin. Once she had finished, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. "Oh come on, you definitely had less. I always beat you," Nix complained loudly. 

"I've been training," Koska retorted haughtily.

Wrapping up the tab, they stepped out into the evening, trotting amongst dimly lit streets. Even at night, there were several deals and locals mingling around to conduct 'business'. He noticed several drug deals amongst other things, but no one bothered them as they passed by. Perhaps due to the glint of 5 sets of beskar, deterring anyone from trying to land a pot shot. One Mandalorian might be trickable, but 5?

"There," Bo-Katan had led the group to the edge of a dock, gesturing to where an Imperial cruiser was stationed. "That's a Gozanti-class cruiser which is being loaded with weapons. According to the port's manifest, it is scheduled to depart at first light."

"Are we stowing away on it?" he inquired, staring at the massive ship.

"Our faction has been hitting them pretty hard, so they scan for lifeforms as a precaution before pushing back," Koska informed him.

"There are only five of us, but we have the element of surprise," he remarked.

"Precisely," Kryze agreed. "The freighter has to travel at trawler speed while inside the shipping lanes. Then it will be allowed to ascend into orbit. During that time, we will be able to jet up while it is still in Trask's atmosphere. The port won't allow them to climb until they're out of the airspace."

"How many stormtroopers on board?" he countered, considering their odds. 

"At least one squad," that was an ambiguous answer. It could be packed or empty.

"The Imperials couldn't hit the side of a bantha if it were standing still," Woves pointed out.

"Very well. I will need to drop the child off, it will not be safe for him on this mission," Din remarked, glancing over at Nix.

"I'll go with you," she volunteered. "Meet back here before dawn?"

"Yes, that's the hard time," Bo-Katan agreed. 

"We will be here," Din promised, turning away with Nix flanking him like a familiar shadow. 

"You trust someone here to watch the child?" Nix asked as they started back through the streets.

"Yes... well... hopefully they didn't realize he ate some of their eggs," Din considered quietly.

" _What_?" she squeaked.

"Oh," he chuckled. "I didn't tell you what I was up to during our separation." Launching into his own recount of the past months, he told her of Goresh, Tatooine, and then his endeavor that had brought him to their fated meeting there. When telling the stories, he heard her snicker a few times, particularly about his time on Tatooine.

"You were going to shoot him?" she asked incredulously. 

"He was wearing beskar," he scowled.

"Well, considering that most Mandalorians _do_ remove their helmets, what if you hadn't been able to work out a deal?" 

"Only one of us would have walked out of that cantina then," he shrugged. 

"Probably you," Nix agreed confidently. When she caught him staring, she tilted her helm up. "What? You've got the fastest draw of anyone I've met. And I'll have you know that I've met quite a few people... I killed a lot of them, but I still met them before that."

"Pointing your weapon at someone before shooting does not qualify as meeting," he jabbed. "Here we are... as I said before, hopefully they didn't realize that the baby ate some of the spawn..."

A momentary pause between their conversation occurred before a drowsy looking Frog Man opened the front door. He gesticulated excitedly, still pleased to see Din as he'd delivered his wife and children. Inviting them in, both he and Nix watched on as his wife was bent over a bowl that had a small tadpole wallowing in some water. 

"Ah, congratulations," Din said awkwardly. "Could... you watch him for a bit? I have some work to do here that I cannot bring him for."

The Frog Lady stood up, croaking loudly, and accepting the child in her arms. She sat down, making noises toward her own spawn, as if talking to the child to introduce the both of them. The Frog Man gave an affirming nod, motioning to the kitchen as if to offer them some refreshments.

"We're... all set," he devoted his attention toward the child. "Behave yourself while we're gone," he warned, hoping that the baby wouldn't try to eat the tadpoles.

After stepping outside, Nix glanced up at him warily. "Frogs? Did you forget what happened back on Arvala-7?"

He snorted, remembering how Nix had shown the child a frog, which he promptly ate. "There's no one else. I think... he understood that he's not going to eat any of them."

"Kriff, I hope you're right," Nix sighed, uncrossing her arms. "We've got a few hours to burn..."

"I wanted to swap out my weapons on the _Crest_ if you don't have any plans," he suggested.

"Why not," she followed him back across the piers and toward where he had docked his ship. The thing was still in abysmal condition, mid repairs, though even the work that had been done didn't look that great. Frowning, the loading dock thumped down with a piercing screech. "Ah, looks like it's been getting some real love since I last saw it."

"Might've crashed on an ice shelf," he grumbled, following her up onto the ship. Nix moved toward the arsenal, throwing the doors open, settling back on her haunches as she looked on. He observed the quiver on her hip, wondering what was inside, the glint of her beskar bow also an acquisition on Arvala-7. They were Loki's weapons, but Nix was also talented with a bow. It was the one whisper of her past life that she’d decided to hold onto. 

The door to the ship closed with a creak, Nix settling back against the opposite wall as she removed her helmet and rubbed her eyes. He traded his Amban rifle in, aware it wouldn't do him much good in the closed, cramped quarters of a ship. Taking another pistol, slowly sliding it into his bandolier. Sparing a look back at her, his mind panned through the various things he could do in that moment. Maybe turn the lights off and-

“Djarin?” she caught him staring. “Almost done?”

Snapping himself back to reality, he reminded himself duly of Nix's conditions. He had to respect the boundaries she had set and her expectations, even if he wanted to make up for the time and distance that had been set between them. The slight change in her, the confidence - the maturity - kriff, it only made her more attractive than before. He enjoyed hearing her now, but it did little to change who she was. It was more convenient, but Nix's banter was still the same.

He nodded finally. "Let's meet up with the others," he glanced back at the hammock he hadn't had the heart to take down after her departure, imagining the woman lounging in it again. Soon.

The pair trotted back down toward the docks where Bo-Katan had established their meeting point. But before they reached the rallying area, he stopped, turning toward her and signaling a halt. Nix tensed automatically, reaching for the DL-22 he had bought her a year and a half ago. That made him smile. He would have thought that she might've traded it in for a quicker, more expensive blaster, but she'd kept the same one.

"What is it?" she muttered.

He placed his hands against her pauldrons, fingers brushing their clan sigil before tilting down and tapping his helmet to hers. "I just... need a moment," he told her, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. Even if he wasn't allowed to do much more than this, he could at least display his intentions for the future if he could resolve himself to remove his helmet in front of her. 

Nix relaxed slightly in his grasp, dropping her hand, allowing for the tender exchange to float between them. Whether she understood what he was doing or just thought that he was tired and leaning on her, he couldn't say. But he savored this calm before the battle, the steadiness of her breathing, her support despite their difference in height. Maker, he'd missed having such a reliable partner beside him and one that made him smile in spite of himself. The *Razor Crest* was considerably brighter with her company in it and the child laughed a lot more. 

But it wasn't just a partnership. If Cara were beside him, he wouldn't be doing this. There was a distinct difference between the ex-Rebel and the Mandalorian in front of him. Not just because they shared a similar culture and mentality, but due to the pulling of his heart and the comfort he experienced clearing his mind before a fight with her. Letting out one last breath, he opened his eyes and let her go. 

"Let's go," he announced.

Nix didn't question him. No smart remark was on her tongue and instead she strode confidently beside him, her red-gold beskar winking beneath the street lamps in the sleepiest part of the morning. Some fishermen were preparing to head out onto the water, but aside from them, few other souls were awake at this point. 

The Nite Owls were waiting at the edge of the pier, their smokey armor dull in the sub-light of dawn. Unlike the pair of Clan Phoenix, whose freshly forged beskar retained an ethereal glow, the avian sigil on their pauldrons blazing. Bo-katan gave a silent, approving nod, before taking the lead as her jetpack hissed and ignited with a blossom of flame.

They kicked off after her, following the enormous Imperial freighter that was listing slowly through the port's airspace. A few troopers were posted outside on the railings, taking notice of the Mandalorians listing through the clouds and coming up quickly on the ship. Undoubtedly, they were already wary of Mandalorians if the Nite Owls had been harrying them prior to their departure. Nix and Koska landed first, the flash of a vibro-blade catching the first light of dawn, before being driven behind the gap of the trooper's helm and into the back of his throat. Nix threw him off the ship, Koska batting away the blaster pointed toward her ally, utilizing hand to hand combat to plant a firm palm underneath the trooper's helm. His head snapped back, dazed momentarily, giving Koska enough time to plant a blaster shot in his chest and send him toppling after his dead companion.

"They've notified the others," Koska announced over their comlinks in their helmets - Mandalorian helmets had the capability to tune into a station with one another, so that conversation could occur without fear of being overshadowed by the noise like the wind whipping around them or the din of battle. However, like most other paths of radio communication, it could be tapped in by outsiders - which was why Mando'a was utilized in tense situations.

"Keep moving, we don't have time to waste," Bo-Katan countered sternly, opening the door to the inside of the ship. Stacking, they each removed their weapons before making their strategic entrance. Stacking allowed for them to pan out, one left, one right, and cover each corner of the room as they swept and also kept their weapons from pointing in a friendly's direction. These were tactics ingrained in Mandalorians in their basic training and something that Din had never had the chance to properly use. This was the largest group of Mandalorians he'd been around since the Tribe and even then he'd only worked with one or two of them at a time - rarely.

Their initial sweep was successful, but that was short lived before the next platoon of soldiers appeared. Taking cover against the hallway dividers, volleys were alternated between the pods of Mandalorians. A few shots from the right, alternated to the left, before Nix drew an arrow from the quiver canister. Drawing it taut against the bow she fired it amongst the throng of soldiers, the arrow exploding in a fizz of blue electricity. Falling to their knees, the high voltage fried the men and skewered the one that had been unfortunate enough to be hit.

 _Huh, I need one of those_ , he thought, bracing his blaster against his vambrace as he took out two more that had entered.

Bo-Katan signaled silently, gesturing for them to take ground. 

Koves went forward, Nix turning to him across the hall, quickly signing, _'Cover me.'_ Chuckling lightly, he turned out from his spot and began laying down suppressive fire as the next pod of stormtroopers entered. Koska lifted her helm, ducking beneath the line of fire, sprinting up in tandem with Nix. 

Removing a tab from her belt, Koska spun it forward, the bomb exploding in a puff of smoke. Cloaking the troopers, they fired aimlessly as the two females pelted forward, swapping the settings on their helmets to engage the thermal readers. He adjusted his own helmet, stopping his firing as he watched their frames disappear into the smoke. Koska was larger than Nix, drawing a vibro-blade in one hand and pairing it with her blaster.

Nix grappled with her bow, thrusting the horn against the throat of one trooper, turning his stunned body so that he was shot by an ally. Discarding his form, she ducked beneath the corpse, bunching her legs as she drew up behind another, keeping her bow taut around his throat, utilizing his body as a shield as she drew a bolt and shot another trooper. The confused and frightened soldiers began firing, but the blaster shots that did hit, hit the puppet that Nix had full control of. 

The smoke began clearing, Koska and Nix standing over the eight bodies, turning their heads as the doors leading toward the cargo hold. Still another dash of about 40 feet before they reached the last set of doors and more opportunity for the Imps to make an attempt at pushing them back. So far, they'd been wildly unsuccessful and over the coms, their panic was clear. At first, the reports believed there were 10 pirates, before the last group had realized that it was a handful of Mandalorians.

Another group was waiting ahead for them, tense and clearly nervous, as the group prowled forward like a pack of loth-wolves. But before they could engage this group, the blast doors snicked shut in front of them. 

Woves paused, glancing toward the wall. "Did they not realize that..." he let out a low laugh, pointing toward the control area.

"They're stormtroopers, what did you expect?" Koska mused, clearly grinning beneath her helmet. "Let's do... this one!" she smashed her hand on the cargo bay doors, the screams of the troopers audible between the door as they were sucked out of the ship. "Mir'osik."(Dung for brains)

Closing the exterior doors, the blast doors were reopened and they sauntered forward to take a look at the weapon cache. A voice was repeating itself on the radio system, asking if the trooper that had been inside copied.

Bo-Katan swaggered over, pressing the com system. "Thank you for packing everything so nicely. These weapons will be quite useful for a division of Mandalorians."

A bit of silence was followed by, "We will hunt you down, one by one, if you make any attempt to jettison it down."

Kryze laughed harshly. "Jettison? Oh no, we're taking the entire ship. Why don't you put some tea on until we make our way up there?"

"What?" Din hissed. "We're taking the entire ship?" He had thought they were just acquiring the weapons, but as he looked, he knew there were too many for them to even make an attempt at jettisoning down. 

"There is something else I need," Bo-Katan retorted nonchalantly. "And I need it in order to rule Mandalore. The Imps know where it is and I need them alive to figure it out. This freighter will be useful for the battles ahead."

"We've held up our end of the bargain," Din countered obstinately.

"If you wish to find the Jedi, you will help me take the Imperial freighter," Kryze said thinly, glancing in Nix's direction as if the petite woman could do more to convince him.

She only remained silent.

"You're changing the terms of the deal."

"This is the Way," she sneered, turning away and beginning back down the hall.

Grinding his teeth, he glared in Nix's direction for any semblance of agreement or help, but she only gave him a shrug, signing, ' _I can't change her mind. These are her terms.'_

Maybe she knew more of Bo-Katan having traveled with her for a few months, but it was irritating that she wasn't standing beside him. Deciding not to dwell on it now, he followed after the Nite Owls as they prowled for the bridge. They had no other choice than to see this job out. It seemed that Kryze was going to make full use of the last moments she'd have the Valkyrie on her team.

They had already decimated the majority of the stormtroopers, their journey up toward the bridge was smooth. However, the last stand was just outside the bridge doors, the final pod of troopers tensing as the Mandalorians arrived. The ship bucked, stopping its climb and beginning a rapid descent.

"They're going to crash the ship," Kryze hissed.

"They have heavy repeating blasters," Woves pinned himself back against the nook he was in.

They'd all die on impact. No matter of beskar would protect them from hitting the ocean water at this rapid of a decline. Glancing toward his partner, he thought of their brief reunion and of the child who was in the care of the frog couple. 

Nix was too small to make an attempt at the group of heavily armed troopers. She'd get knocked back before making it far enough up to do anything and Koska had used all her smoke bombs. "Cover me," Din felt himself saying. "I can take them."

Nix's helmet snapped toward him, but she didn't voice her opposition out loud. No, she wouldn't challenge him in front of the others, but he could feel the heat of her glare and the roaring fury that lined her shoulders. 

Kryze considered it. They were running out of time and options. "Go. We'll cover you," she promised, nodding to the others.

Drawing in one final breath, he grabbed for his grenade and left his coverage. He started at a run, but the first couple of shots to his chest sent him to a knee. Struggling back up, his eyes bleary with pain, he pressed forward. Thank the Maker that the troopers had terrible aim and were hitting his beskar. Two more steps. He lobbed the grenades, the next shot sending him with a thump to the ground. The bombs exploded, decimating the last line of stormtroopers.

Nix was by his side in a moment, helping him sit up as the other Mandalorians prowled toward the bridge. Their mission was done, whatever was going on up there was barely their concern. "Did any of those glance you?" she asked insistently, worry pressing her crystalline voice.

"I'll be bruised, but I'm fine otherwise," he promised her, catching a small gloved hand in his. 

"You're not lying are you? Last time you said you were fine you nearly bled out on the _Crest_ ," she pointed out thinly. 

"I swear," he chuckled, pressing the brow of his helmet to hers, drawing that same sense of clarity and calm that he had before the battle. "Let's join the others and leave as soon as we're permitted."

Nix nodded, helping haul him to his feet. His ribs ached, but he wasn't hurt aside from the substantial bruising he'd have later. They staggered slightly as the ship stabilized, heading into the cockpit to see the Imperial Captain dead on the floor. However, it appeared that none of them were the culprits for his death. Kicking the body slightly, he heard Nix sigh. "Electric suicide capsule?" she asked.

Woves, who was on one of the controls, gave a solemn nod. 

"We need to go. It's sending a distress signal," Koska announced from the main pilot's seat.

Bo-Katan turned toward the both of them. "Won't the both of you join us?" she implored. "Nix, it'll be a shame to lose you."

"Just pick up Freya and take care of her. That's all I can ask for... but my place is amongst my clan," Nix answered sternly.

Bo-Katan gave an understanding nod. "I can see why you were eager to find this Mandalorian," she remarked before turning her attention back to him. "The offer still stands for the both of you, if you were to change your minds."

"Perhaps... after our own mission," Din relented. "Where can we find the Jedi?"

Bo-Katan removed her helmet, a few copper strands sticking to the back of her neck. "Take the foundling to the city of Calodan, on the forest planet of Corvus. There, you will find Ahsoka Tano. Tell Tano that I sent you... Thank you for your help-" her verdant eyes turned to Nix. "And thank you for the months of assistance in our campaign. We will take care of Freya. Neither of your assistance will be forgotten...." a smile, though not haughty, pressed her lips. "This is the Way."

"This is the Way," both he and Nix responded in unison. Turning away, they opened an airlock and threw themselves into the atmosphere. The initial thrust sent them tumbling for a moment before they were able to ignite their jetpacks and sail back toward the port city.

Back at the house of the Frog couple, the child was playing with one of the tadpoles while on the Frog Lady's lap. He brightened at the sight of the pair of Mandalorians, burnished and glowing in their own silver and gold respects. He picked the child up, the Frog Lady motioning to her child, croaking. 

"Ni mirdir dalyc cuyir tionir meh Kelir hiibir solus," (I think she is asking if we will take one) Nix said, watching the gestures closely. How many languages had she remembered after getting Loki's memories? Did Loki speak frog? "I'm only guessing. I can't understand her."

"No thanks," he told the Frog Lady respectfully. That's all he needed. Another baby and one that required heat and water. "But thank you for watching him. Stay safe."

Departing, they returned to the port where the *Razor Crest* was stationed. There were little more changes to the ship from when he and Nix had visited it during the night. Frowning, he glanced over at the Mon Calamari who had entreated him before. "That's it?" he snapped irritably. He'd paid 1,000 credits for shoddy work? 

"How much did you pay?" Nix asked, observing the unimpressive work beside him.

"More than enough," he grumbled.

"Well," she said with a bit of mischief in her voice. "I've got some credits if you want to take her back to hangar 3-5 for proper repairs."

Tatooine wasn't too far if he was able to use the way. Before, he'd had to travel sub-light because of the Frog Lady's spawn. Traveling with this work wouldn't last them long. They needed proper repairs before being able to continue on their mission to deliver the child. Perhaps it was also an excuse to have more time with the kid, giving Peli one last visit before they gave him to the Jedi. 

"Tatooine then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Am I rushing their relationship?? OMG WHAT IF ITS TOO MUCH
> 
> *realizes I wrote 77k words and they haven't even kissed*
> 
> Me: Oh.


	15. Nix & Din's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stranded on an icy planet, they're forced to help find a smuggler in exchange for repairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my lovely readers! My vacation has ended and the copious amount of writing I've been able to dish out is going to slow down now. I should be able to get an update or two out a week, but as we near the end of Season 2 of The Mandalorian, the story may take a halt (after some fluff) until Season 3 is released - and then a new book in turn. 
> 
> In the meanwhile, since that will take a while to be released, I am working on another piece that happens during the Prequel Era. I'll include more of that info below as not to bombard you before this chapter.
> 
> Thank you again for all your lovely reviews and words of encouragement!

The alarms on the ship were wailing while she was feeding the child, red lights winking, as Djarin threw himself out of his bunk and up the ladder to the cockpit. There shouldn't have been any issues with the short trip to Tatooine. Hell, they were in the same system, it should have only taken a few short hours. The baby spit out his food, a new and rather disgusting habit he had formed.

Frowning, Nix wiped his mouth and picked him up. "If you're going to play with it, you're not going to get more," she scolded lightly, heading up to the cockpit to see what was going on. 

Their reunion was... not exactly what she had expected, but it felt right. Din had to decide for himself when he wanted to remove his helmet and she wouldn't rush him. A few tender exchanges solidified her thoughts toward what they were. He cared for her as more than a partner, but had to work out his own inner conflict before they could be more than just this. What she had asked was no light suggestion. Din had worn his helmet for years and hearing that this tradition was a perverted ideal that the Children of the Watch had utilized to prevent forming attachments must have unsettled him. He hadn't talked more of it, so she didn't insist. 

She'd only just returned and wasn't going to make him uncomfortable. Her own expectations had been laid out to bare. He knew them and she trusted him not to act unless he was willing to show her his face. _Damn, how long am I going to be waiting?_ she thought wryly, popping into the cockpit where she noticed the ship was shaking violently. His head was bowed over the controls, shoulders stiff and hunched. Even if she couldn't see his face, just looking at him warmed her in a way that Axe never had. Gods, she'd missed him so much.

"What's going on?" she asked him, the ship dropping out of hyperspace, groaning in protest.

"The hyperdrive was not fixed properly," he hissed, smashing a fist on a stubborn control. "Neither was the navigation."

"Where are we?" her eyes scanned out the dash, the stars unfamiliar and Tatooine nowhere in sight. The only nearby planet was a turquoise sphere, surrounded by three moons. No. She did recognize this place. Loki had been here before. "That's Nelvaan."

"How-" he bit back his fury and sat back. "We're not going anywhere with the _Crest_ in this state. Kriffing Mon Calamari," he turned toward her. "Can we make repairs on Nelvaan?"

Nix snorted. "On _Nelvaan_? I mean, if we can find parts, we could make the repairs ourselves," she told him. "That planet... it's primordial and inhabited by the Nelvaanian people - wolf-like beings. They're primitive and live in tribes. But-" she thought back, considering the vague memories. "I might know some of their language. Loki worked with them before. They're... similar mentality wise to Mandalorians. I don't know if there are any other outposts on this planet since Loki went there more than 50 years ago."

"I doubt it. I haven't been out here before and it's so remote that it would make a good place for bounties to hide if there were proper ports," Din retorted, considering the planet from the corner of his visor. "What else do you know about this place?"

"It's different from Loki's memories. It now appears to be a frigid climate..." Nix stared out at the planet, before it had been green. "But... as long as we are respectful to the locals and the planet, then I think we should manage. The Nelvaanian people regard their planet as the Great Mother, so we need to treat _everything_ with dignity."

"Great. I can check for proper space ports," he grumbled, turning back to turn a few dials. So no dual sunshine, but a frosty giant of a planet they were going to have to scavenge parts from. Nix was hopeful that there might be at least one space port, seeing it was on the Triellus Trade Route. It didn't make sense that given the amount of time in between that it wouldn't have been colonized slightly... Unless the locals were keen on keeping everyone off their planet. They had been quite eager to help Loki when she had been hunting a target. Then again, they just wanted the outsider gone.

Sitting back in the co-pilot seat, she played with the child for a bit, only lifting her head when she heard the distant static chatter of a spaceport pinging in. _"Frostfang port checking in. Frostfang port-"_ the voice was deep, ragged, and spoken in snarls and growls. Nix understood it, but to her partner it likely sounded like a bunch of disjunct noises.

She stood up, smacking his hand away before he could continue to search for other channels. _"This is the Razor Crest, Frostfang. We are looking for clearance to land."_ Kriff, this language hurt the back of her throat, it wasn't intended for human vocal chords, but she managed it.

A short pause. _"Razor Crest, state your business on the Great Mother. Are you Nelvaanian?"_

 _"No, we are not. We are in dire need of repairs, but will leave immediately upon completion,"_ she answered politely.

_"You speak Nelvaanian."_

_"I knew someone who visited here a long time ago and she taught me. We are Mandalorian. Do we have clearance to land for repairs?"_

"Yes, we will give you clearance to land for repairs, Razor Crest," this time the tech spoke common.

"Oh," she muttered, slightly embarrassed that she hadn't tried entreating them in a more natural language first. "Thank you." Her hand lifted from the com and she glanced over at him. Of course they probably spoke the common tongue, even if it was difficult for them to do so.

"You speak wolf?" Din teased.

"Nelvaanian," she corrected, narrowing her eyes at him. "Not the most pleasant thing to speak." But she considered for a moment, cocking her head as they started for the port. They must not have gotten a lot of visitors. Why would anyone want to come out here? Still, they had relented after she had said they were Mandalorian. "I have a strange feeling about this."

"Why?"

"I don't think they were going to let us land," she admitted honestly. 

"A lot could have changed since Loki last went here," he pointed out.

"It did. Nelvaan was not a frigid planet when Loki came here," she sat back down, toying with the child's ear. "Nor did they have much technology. Look, I know a lot could have changed, but I doubt the locals' suspicion of outsiders did. After all, anyone who would want to come here would be looking for prospects - be that resources or commerce. The natives are very private and religious." She suspected there was a condition for why they were being allowed to land.

"Whatever it is, I doubt it's not anything we can't handle," Din said lightly. "Can you tell me a bit more about their ways? I'd prefer not to be going in blind."

Nix recounted what she knew about them. They lived in tribes across the planet and were governed by a shaman and chieftain. One of religion, one of war. Each leader was elected through tests and votes, a chieftain and shaman could not be given their place unless they deserved it and were admired by their people. While Loki had known them when they were primitive, they were sentient and had great prowess. With sharp senses, including unparalleled hearing and smell, they were excellent trackers and powerfully built. 

The planet was known as the Great Mother and they worshipped her. Taking great care of the planet that hosted them, each animal they killed or flora they harvested, was thanked tenfold for giving its life to sustain them. Believing in giving back to the planet, the locals refused to live in a manner that was destructive to her. Thus, using a flamethrower near trees was a no go. 

In their societies, family and kinship was highly regarded, just as it was in Mandalorian culture. However, the similarities divided slightly as only males became warriors and scouts. Females were the builders, gatherers, and raised the children. Aside from their elected officials, the Nelvaans treated one another equally, though a man's opinion was often weighed more than his female counterpart. 

"It's possible they'll defer to you more than me," Nix informed him, wrapping up her retained knowledge of the natives. 

"Hm," he hummed, breaking through the atmosphere of the planet. The _Razor Crest_ began quaking, as if it were being shaken up with a pair of enormous hands. Beneath them, a small space port came into view amongst the snow. It wasn't much of an outpost, but given the seclusion the planet preferred, it was enough for them to land in one of the sheltered hangars. A Nelvaan mechanic came out, dressed in little more than a loincloth and jacket. "You didn't tell me they were enormous."

Nix glanced out, realizing that the male had to be 3 meters tall. "They... weren't that big before. Come on, it's been like... 50 something years."

Turning the ship off, they went to the storage shed, where Nix fitted a warmer coat to the child. They'd be fine in their beskar, but the baby's meager robes wouldn't be enough for how cold it was reading just outside. Wrapping a scarf around his head and ears, Nix was satisfied when only his brown eyes were peering between the slats. 

"Greetings," the Nelvaan said as they exited, his hooded eyes observing the poor state of the ship. 

"Hello, how much will repairs cost?" Din went straight to the point, hoping to get off of Nelvaan.

Turning his wolfish head to check on the ship, he let out a low growling huff. "O căutare decentă," he grimaced, or she'd call it a grimace - the taut manner in which his lips pulled back.

"He said it'll take a decent quest to pay for this," Nix translated.

"A quest?" Din repeated. "We do have credits."

"Credits have little value here," the wolf-man announced. "Come." 

The blue-furred lupine led them out of the hangar and into the warmth of the space station. Much had changed since Loki had been there. It seemed that the Nelvaanians were more keen on utilizing technology now as long as it didn't interfere with the Great Mother. Still, she observed the traditional style of his clothing and the refusal to be done with the loincloth. Even around the steel walls, white and red effigies hung, a spear mounted above the exit door. 

They moved underground, heading through a tunnel, before going up another set of steps and into a warm common house. Locals mingled around, the ceiling dome shaped, the entirety of the room revolving around the center bar and hearth. There were several enormous Nelvaans, an entire meter taller than some of the other males. She caught broken snippets of conversation around them, but most of it was about hunts, gathering, and other mundane day to day tasks.

Up on the terrace of the common house, sat an impressive looking lupine. His leather jacket was open, showing his broad chest, swirling black tattoos engraved in his pecs. He was another of the larger species, glancing down his snout toward them, a cloak of long inky hair falling from his crown. A Nelvaanian smile looked more like a snarl, but Nix knew that he was being friendly when he bent forward, opening his clawed, blue hands. "Welcome, Mandalorians," he rasped. "Please, take a seat at my hearth."

The hearth he referred to was a small fire sitting on the table. It pelted them with fronds of heat, chasing away the cold that lingered by their feet. Such a large room required a lot of power to heat and instead, there were small fires on tables where patrons were sitting. 

Sitting down across from him, the child tugged down the scarf and reached forward toward the fire.

"A child," the lupine observed, making Din tense. However, the wolf-man didn't seem as if he were keen on eating the baby. Instead, "A beautiful sight. I am aware that Mandalorians have a very strong family dynamic, just as we do here... My name is Kovar. I am the chieftain of the Frostfang Tribe."

Din took point, the lupine's eyes pressing to him rather than Nix. "I am Din Djarin and my partner is Nix. We are here for repairs and will be out of your way once our ship is in better condition to fly."

"Yes," Kovar rumbled. "This I know."

"And you don't accept credits as payment?" Din continued.

"No. We are the only settlement on the Great Mother that might have use for them and that's only when traders do land here once every few years. Most often, traders are more interested in what resources we have here than credits. So-" he drew a rumbling breath. "We will accept another form of payment."

"What will you have of us?" Din inquired thinly.

"We have a slight problem," Kovar began. "It would seem that a refugee that we gave sanctity to had ulterior motives. His name is Ginsun Taalt, a Duros smuggler, and he's taken post in the bones of a Separtist lab that was active decades ago. Ships have been landing with reinforcements and he has been extracting sacred crystals after repairing some of the technology there."

"Why haven't your own people flushed him out already?" Din challenged.

"We have tried, but our own technology is not as advanced as what Taalt has. What you saw in the spaceport is the extent of our prowess. The Great Mother has provided us with everything else we may need, we have never seen a reason to go beyond minimal requirements. The Frostfang Tribe only has one ship, otherwise all travel is done by foot as to keep the atmosphere pure and clean. Taalt's weaponry outmatches ours and due to his strategic position, we're unable to get too close without being uncovered."

"And how will we fare any better?" Din countered.

"Aside from your weapons, I see you're wearing beskar," Kovar sniffed. "We know of multiple entrances and based on the information our scouts have gathered, there are no more than a dozen smugglers. The laborers we believe are slaves. It is likely that they will turn on the smugglers."

"If you can provide a detailed enough map with the entrances, including what types of weapons they have that are causing you such issues, that would be appreciated," Din conceded. He'd been told before that there weren't too many enemies only to discover he was stuck on a freighter trying to take it for Mandalore.

Nix glanced between them, wondering what kind of crystals were being extracted. Crystals of any shape or form were precious. However, it was likely that the natives wanted to keep it quiet and the qualities they might possess. After all, if there was a prospect of mining on Nelvaan, the planet risked being overthrown and the Great Mother being destroyed for its source of crystals. Looking intently at her partner, she hoped that he understood the gravity of the situation and what the locals were trusting them with. Likely due to being Mandalorian had they even considered this, because they'd heard of their similar culture. Mandalore had been stripped by the Empire for its beskar. Would they allow the same to become of Nelvaan?

"Very well, that can be prepared," Kovar admitted, his eyes turning back to the child. "It will not be safe for the baby."

Din stiffened, the suggestion of leaving the baby behind with the strange lupine people discomforting. Nix reached over and touched his shoulder. "Val Kelir ba'slanar kaysh ti a dalyc. Val cuyir ijaat adate," (They will leave him with a woman. They are honorable people) she assured him, but disliked putting the child's care in the hands of strangers. "Bic Kelir cuyir ciryc bal buruk at hiibir kaysh." (It will be too cold and dangerous to take him.)

"Ni kar'taylir, Ni shi vaabir nayc guuror bic," (I know, I just do not like it) he muttered back. Devoting his attention to Kovar, "If you can promise me his safety, then we shall take on this task."

"I swear on my Tribe, that the child will be properly taken care of as if he were my own," Kovar pressed his hand over his heart earnestly. "I shall have my own wife watch him. I have two pups of my own."

Din relaxed considerably hearing that the baby would have other children to play with while they were gone. It had been a long while since the child had been exposed to others of a similar age. "Very well. Let us begin the preparations."

Kovar had physical maps brought over, all which had been done by hand and were not transcribed onto datapads. The Frostfang settlement was quite far from their destination, traversing a forest and mountain valleys. It was explained that most of the fauna there wouldn't bother them, but there were a few creatures they needed to be wary of, including the enormous Horax. Speeders were not utilized due to the carbon footprint expended, which meant that they'd have to go most of the journey by foot and use their jetpacks only if the need was dire. 

The more they listened, the more Nix realized this was going to be an arduous journey. They might have been able to cross to the plant within a few hours if they could fly, but Kovar was insistent on not bringing further harm to the Great Mother, since she was already ailing from what the smugglers were doing. Pointing out various bunker cabins, Kovar informed them that these cabins were utilized by hunters and scouts, as nightfall was rarely safe to travel and it became too cold. There would be three cabins between them and their final destination and due to the distance, that meant three nights they'd have before engaging with the smugglers. 

They were to pack enough to last them at least a week, considering that they'd have to walk back after they finished their task. Who knew what delays they might meet on the road, but they'd have to suffer it to get the _Razor Crest_ into proper working condition. 

"Have you got everything?" Din asked her as she shouldered her own bag over her jetpack. They had both traded their padded sublayers for thicker, fur lined attire. It was going to be bloody cold and neither of them were keen on freezing in their beskar before reaching the first cabin. 

"I believe so," she confirmed, checking her weapons once again, observing as her partner shouldered his Amban rifle. It would be easier to snipe a few of the smugglers and reduce them to ash before collecting Taalt. "Let's say goodbye to the child and get this started."

Leaving the hangar behind, they trekked across the frosty village to Chieftain Kovar's hut. Inside, the child toddled around with two blue-furred lupine children. They were twice his size and curious about the green alien, but still managed to be cognizant of his smaller stature, passing a felt, white ball over to him. Kovar's wife blinked a few times, but didn't speak.

Bending down beside the child, they bid farewell, promising that they would be back as soon as they were finished with the job. Nix felt relatively safe leaving him behind. The Empire wouldn't make it out here. Not before they'd returned. Bracing against the wind, they departed from the sheltered walls of the settlement and took a step into Nelvaan's wintery landscape.

There was something absurdly beautiful about the pristine white snow, the trees bowed with ice and twinkling in the sunlight. If not for their visors, they might have been blinded by how bright it reflected. Instead, they moved down the trodden path that was utilized by scouts and warriors. 

"What was it like before?" Din asked her, also glancing around at the frozen landscape. 

"Green," Nix said slowly. "There were a lot of forests, rivers, and water. Not swampy though. The landscape was always more temperate. As far as I can recall, the summers were mild, and the winters did bring snow... just not this much."

"Hm," he looked back out, his silver beskar refracting the snow, making him look a bit more ghostly than normal. "I wonder what brought this ice age."

"Me too," she admitted, boots crunching against the packed snow, the soft trilling of local birds echoing in the air. Even if Nelvaan had become icy, the trees still lived and the wildlife hadn't disappeared. The flora and fauna had adapted rather than wilt. Maybe the Great Mother had preserved herself, changing rapidly to the Ice Age. Even the Nelvaanians were different, but she wondered if that was due to some kind of outside influence. 

Perhaps if it weren't so cold and they weren't on a mission, Nix could have enjoyed the hike a bit more. However, when the sunlight began fleeing, she felt the temperature beginning to bite through her layers. Kriff. Kovar hadn't been kidding when he said that nights were dangerous. The sun did manage to reflect off the snow and warm the landscape considerably.

"We should be getting to the cabin soon, no?" Nix pointed out, slightly anxious to warm her freezing toes and fingers. 

"We should," he paused to pull out the map, staring down at it with the last few tendrils of light illuminating it. "Dank farrik."

"What?" she glanced over, trying to see the spot he was gazing at.

"I think we may have passed it," he retorted thinly. "We should have noticed another road that led to it, but the snow..." It was difficult to discern between the paths due to how white it was. They also weren't familiar with the land. "The next is in the woods and we should be about here," he pointed toward the cusp of the forest.

"Then we pick up the pace and try to shoot for the next cabin," Nix decided, though she wasn't keen on staying out during the night. "If we move quickly, that should keep our blood flowing enough to chase away the worst of the cold."

"It won't be pleasant," he agreed, rolling the map back up. "But we have little other choice unless we want to retrace our steps."

"No, we'll go forward," she tightened her grip on her pack, reaching up to switch her visor's setting to night vision. At least now they'd be able to see more without the sun being too reflective against the snow. Once he had replaced the map, she began trotting down the path at a decent pace, her boots kicking up some snow as she continued forward. Given that she was shorter, it only made sense that she took the lead.

Her ears pounded, breath pinging against her helmet, warming the inside as she moved toward the edge of the forest. Tall sentinel pines knifed up toward the sky, gesticulating at the various moons. Running was slightly easier on Nelvaan due to the gravity only clocking in at 85%, but that also meant that it was easier to make mistakes. Under the cover of the laden pines, she rounded with the turn of the path, her eyes flicking around as she enjoyed the picturesque landscape. She liked the forest and the shelter it provided, leaning toward them like familiar friends.

On a runner's high, she barely paid heed to Din's shout behind her as she planted another foot forward. The cabin was just within view. Her boot slipped, sending her sliding down against the ice, breath stealing from her chest as she went hard. Her body continued to move down a slight slope, her wits returning as she tried to scramble back up. Her movements were in vain and she slid down to a plateau of flat ice, the trees breaking away. Once she finally stopped moving, she caught sight of Din scrambling down the hill to try and get her. 

"Don't!" he yelled breathlessly, as she pushed herself up to her feet, still slightly jarred from her tumble. She didn't catch why until the ice beneath her feet moaned eerily. Glancing, she could see the black swirling water beneath. Nix didn't have time to press her vambrace and ignite her jetpack before the ice shattered and she was snatched by the frigid embrace of the river water. Her helmet filled immediately, icy fingers plunging down her throat, burning like fire. Her hand snapped down on her vambrace, her jetpack starting in the swirling water, but she couldn't see or tell up from down. Disoriented, she choked on the water, her jetpack guttering out as the abyss claimed her.

* * *

She disappeared beneath the thin ice. He was shaking slightly from effort, they'd run miles before Nix's attention had waned and she slipped on a patch of slick ice. Now she had been claimed by the river, his horror stinging like his breath in his mask as he ran down stream. He saw light, his partner struggling beneath the ice, her jetpack flickering on to betray her position. He snapped his own on, not willing to protect the Great Mother if it was going to cost him her life. The ice was thin, having formed over a turbulent river running down from the mountains.

He broke through the first layer, diving in to fight the current for Nix's form. Her jetpack had gone out, but he was able to find her, gripping her by her belt as he wrenched them both out of the frigid water. His muscles quaked from the cold, dragging her limp form onto the shore. She didn't sputter or cough, instead, she remained eerily quiet. 

His shaking fingers disengaged her helmet, her auburn hair plastered to a terrifying pale visage. Nix's lips were blue and as he pressed the side of his helmet to her mouth, he knew she wasn't breathing. The heartplate was in the way, his frantic, but stern presses not forcing the water from her lungs. It wasn't even an afterthought as he ripped his helmet off, grasping her jaw as he put his mouth to hers, blowing hot air in. They'd only just been reunited and his kriffing helmet wasn't as important as her life. 

Several breaths were blown in before she choked up a mouthful of water. Her ragged breaths quivered, shivering with each new one drawn in. He was freezing and he'd only been in the water for a few brief moments. Nix was smaller than him and was hypothermic. Putting her helmet back on, he replaced his own and slipped his numb hands beneath her unconscious form. He didn't care if the Nelvaanians would be pissed at him, he ignited his jetpack again and sailed away from the river and toward the cabin they had nearly gotten to before the accident.

Kicking the door open, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, observing the large, empty hearth and a couple of cots, thick white bantha fur blankets stacked neatly. Closing the door, he felt the weakness of the cold sapping away his energy, but his adrenaline surged past it as he laid her down in front of the hearth, turning it on anxiously before collecting the fur. Ripping his gloves off, his frozen fingers moved lethargically as he felt how algid her damp clothes still were.

 _Maker, please don't kill me when you wake up,_ he thought, working at her armor, removing it piece by piece, including her helmet. She was still breathing, but the shock and tumble through the river had stolen her consciousness. He forced the soaking clothes off of her, thinking wryly that this hadn't been how he wanted to undress her, before bundling her in the furs. There was barely a moment to admire her physique as he turned her into a burrito, shivers wracking him and causing his teeth to chatter.

He was hypothermic too, but his attention had been devoted to making certain she was safe. Nix sputtered again, this time opening her eyes, they were barely more than narrow slits as she rolled her head to the side, drinking him in. "Din?" her voice was distant, almost as if she didn't really quite understand what was going on. 

"Y-y-you're s-s-safe," he promised her.

Her eyes flew open, sitting up, the furs sliding down from her upper body to reveal her chest still taught in breast bindings. "Take your attire off," her skin prickled with gooseflesh and her lips were still slightly blue, but she regained enough wits about her to see that he had also been soaked to the bone.

He flinched as she moved over, forcing her fingers against the straps of his heartplate, the blankets sliding down more to reveal her torso and hips. "I-I-I'll be fine. J-j-just have to g-g-get closer to the f-f-fire," he stammered.

"Shut up," she snapped, forcing the first piece of armor off with a clang. 

Fuck. He was so cold, but he was glaringly aware of what might happen if he had to snuggle up to her for warmth. Even then, his eyes were trailing lines across her exposed frame, drawing in the slight curve of her waist, the way her nipples puckered against the bindings, and the hair standing straight up on her forearms. Her cool palm kissed his chest and he realized that she'd worked quicker than he'd thought possible. 

"Take the rest of it off. We're both going to freeze to death at this rate," Nix pointed out astutely, gesturing to his boots and trousers. His upper body was already exposed, his chest stinging painfully, his shoulders barely moving. He fumbled off his boots, removing his trousers to leave him in only his damp underclothes. Lifting the blankets, Nix entreated him. He knew it was only for survival, but his heart still panged painfully. Sliding up behind her, he heard her hiss in his grasp. "Dank farrik, you're cold."

"You're not much better," Din grumbled, snaking his arms around her small form, clinging to the small bit of warmth she was providing. 

"What happened?" she asked, her wet hair nestled against his bicep, keeping her face pointed toward the fire. 

"You slipped onto thin ice and when you stood, it broke. You... swallowed quite a bit of water," he told her quietly. "I managed to pull you out, but you were unconscious by that point."

"If... I swallowed a bit of water," Nix started slowly. "How did you get it out of my lungs? I assume some form of CPR, but the heartplace would have gotten in the way, no?"

"It did," he admitted grudgingly, his own shivers calming slightly. 

"Din Djarin, did you remove your helmet to save me?" Nix turned her head enough to glance perceptively at him, her voice lilting in a mischievous manner. 

"Maybe."

Nix chuckled. "Well, I didn't see anything," she reminded him.

"I know."

Pressed close to her, he could feel blood returning to his extremities, drawing gentle breaths that no longer pained his lungs. She had quickly become a beacon of warmth between the bantha fur, her soft skin slick to his. Closing his eyes, he made a futile attempt to not enjoy the proximity. It had been so long and after what they'd just experienced, he realized bitterly that he had been willing to forsake the Creed to save her. He loved her. But it was the same Creed that made him nervous about taking his helmet off when she *could* see him. 

It had been effortless. He hadn't thought about it at all when faced with the prospect that he'd kill her if he didn't give her mouth to mouth. He drew his left hand up, his right arm pinned beneath her head, tracing the line of her side and then hip. Unable to stop himself, he heard a slight huff. 

"We are... in quite a compromising position," Nix observed gently, shivering as he removed his exploring hand. 

"Mm," he hummed, though the horror of the event wasn't forgotten. Pressing his helmet against the back of her head he let out a quaking breath. His fingers dug into the side of her hip, longing for more than just this. 

"Have you put any more thought into my proposition?" she pressed.

"Enough." He meant that he had put enough thought into it, but the cool ring of his voice through the modulator portrayed it as a demand. 

Nix relented, resigning to gaze back toward the fire. He could sense her disappointment, biting his cold lips, wishing he could feel the heat of the fire and maybe even her mouth against his again. There hadn't been any true satisfaction in the midst of his panic trying to force life back into her back on the river bank. Even now, each touch was stolen, as he teetered dangerously on the edge of his contemplation. 

For once, she didn't tease or taunt him, slipping off into sleep as he battled with himself internally. So close and yet so far. He could feel her heartbeat, her slender form nestled against his, coupled with the deep sensation that this felt right. His neck ached with the helmet on, his face still not quite warm as it wasn't exposed. Certain she was asleep, he reached up with his free hand and disengaged the helm, setting it just above his head. 

Moving forward slightly, he pressed his lips to her still damp hair, the heat of the fire warming his skin. Drawing a slight, unimpeded breath, he could smell the minerals from the water in her hair and a faint earthy, woody aroma - just like the crisp pine trees that made up the forest. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment, the ability to actually press his forehead to the back of her head. In that moment, he knew, curling his fingers against her hip, and allowing him to slip into sleep.

* * *

 **A.N.** Given that there isn’t much on Nelvaan, I did a little bit of my own additions. I used Romanian for their language, though the sounds and annunciations are very raspy and gritty, and are not clearly spoken due to the natural way words pass through their muzzles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh!
> 
> I'm not going to spoil anything, so I'll leave you hanging until the next update :)
> 
> As for the Prequel Saga I'm going to be working on - if you're interested in Anakin's timeline - the briefest explanation is it's a reincarnation insert with a pair of twins. One who is obsessed with Star Wars and the other who has no kriffing idea about it. They're reborn into younglings the same age as Anakin and decide their one purpose is to keep Anakin from succumbing to the Dark Side. It's meant to be quite long and spanning multiple movies, shows, and even Legends books - and to be very immersive. A short list of tags includes: adventure, growing up, friendship, slow burn, the slowest of all slow slow burns, (even slower than this fic slow burn), character building, betrayal, AU canon events, eventual romance.
> 
> I hope that'll you'll read it once I begin releasing it, which probably won't be until the end of Season 2 for this fic.
> 
> Thanks everyone :)

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the fact that Din can speak Tusken sign language. I thought it would be fun to introduce a character who couldn't readily communicate with others.


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